Afterimage
by Nina Windia
Summary: Princess Nina's sister is dead, and soon she too will leave Wyndia, the bride of the winner of a tournament held for her hand. One of the suitors invited is Prince Ryu, a member of the infamous dragon clan. But what interest does Ryu have in a Wyndian bride? He has enough troubles of his own, most stemming from the fact he was born as a 'she.' AU fic.
1. The Three Princes

**A/N- **Hiya everyone! Nina here. You might remember my story 'A Princess's Duty' from a few years ago. I'm back again, this time with an original BOF story is set before Breath of Fire 1 and explores the early days of the Dragon Clan and introduces Myria and Deis as deities new in the world.

I should mention I'm still not settled on a title, so it's likely to change.

**Summary**: In Wyndia, the princess Christina is dead. Six months later, King Philip announces a great tournament, the winner of which will win the hand of his other daughter, Nina, a troubled woman on the path of self-destruction. Of the number invited this includes Ryu, prince of Dracon and his two brothers. But what interest does Ryu have in a foreign princess? He has enough troubles of his own.

Please enjoy! (And let me know what you think!)

**Afterimage**

**Part One: The Three Princes**

**By **_Nina Wyndia_

They were young, and the cup of love was full, and they drunk from that cup till they were drunk. They took the taste of love from each others lips, their bodies, and the taste was sweet; honeyapple, pearblossom. Prince Ryu of the Dragons and his maiden, his love, the sweet Sarah. To forgo the harshness of the citadel and escape into the twilit woods, to chase one another under star-spangled branches and lie down in a bed of ivy, to take her in his arms, and love again.

At last, the wintertime was over. The desolation of his soul, his loneliness, had sprung into a flowering springtime.

Sarah stood under the elm tree. Ryu crept towards her quietly, stepping over the cartilage of cones and bracken. This was not their usual place to meet, but then, it was her, completely, to play games like this. Stencilled through the leaves, the sun cast rippling shapes in the grove, over her skin, as she reached up to toss her thick sailor's knot of hair over her shoulder, exposing the slender nape of her neck, which Ryu leaned forward, to kiss. So that she turned, with an answering smile.

Which wilted.

All fairy tales, eventually, end.

"Ah, Ryu. It's you," she said, flustered.

Prince Ryu said, "What?"

Of all the unlucky coincidences, his royal brother, Prince Locke, chose that moment to step out of the trees towards them. When he saw Ryu, he stopped, mouth twisted in wry amusement. Sarah had turned a deep shade of pink.

Ryu's hands started to sweat. He turned wildly to Sarah. "Sarah, what is this?" he said.

Sarah bit her lip, hard enough that her red lips turned pale. Locke strode by her side, his hand curled around her waist.

"Ryu," he said curtly, as if in acknowledgement.

"Locke, what do you think you're doing? What is..."

But Sarah's eyes, locked shamefully on the ground, were the biggest condemnation of all.

He said, as though pleading, "Sarah.."

"For Ladon's sake, Ryu, don't snivel," Locke said. "It's time for you to finish playing at love, and grow up. Before you hurt someone."

To Sarah Ryu just said, "Why? Didn't you say you love me?"

Slowly, Sarah raised her eyes to meet Ryu's. And even slower she said, "But you're a woman, Ryu."

And Locke was laughing raucously, and suddenly all the love he felt was gone, replaced only by anger, hot and molten. It surged through his blood like electric; it wanted to burst out of him. Already his hands were extending, lengthening, sharpening, no longer hands, but claws. A terrible snarl ripped through him, and claws first, he flew at Locke.

* * *

_Two years later..._

The day was hot. Clear. Perfect. The dirt underfoot, crumbling in clots beneath Ryu's toes was blistering. You could see the heat waving like the aurora in the air. Prince Ryu shifted the heavy camping gear, one shoulder to the other, like an old friend, and wove his way through the bubbling mineral pools to his favourite spot. Squinting out over the horizon, he could see the peak of the basalt tower, thrown into the shade of the mountainside.

His fishing rod he rested across his shoulder. At the end of the line, the familiar tug as the lure bobbed up, down, up, like a hopping frog. When he reached his spot, he sat, slouching back against the warm, smooth rock at the side of the pool, and pulled out his jar of bait.

"Mornin' boys," he said, examining the wriggling beetles. "Who's up for a dip in the pond today?"

He cast far into the pool, where the steamfish liked to congregate. Then he gripped the rod between his thighs, and laid back. The sun had lain in a perfect, white scalding circle upon the water; now, the lure divided it into rippling bars. He closed his eyes, to feel the heat on his eyelids. Prince Ryu had never been sunburnt. His people, only known as _The People _did not burn in the sun; only bronze further. Sunburn itself was very funny joke, played on those from delicate countries to the south.

There was a bite on the line, and he sat up, but it got away. It didn't bother Ryu. The heat made had him feel sleepy and stupid. He caught sight of himself reflected in the pool, and it startled him. He looked away.

His eyes sunk like the bobbing lure, and for a while he fell into a sun-induced stupor. Ryu's mind was wonderfully, mercifully blank.

"Hey, bro."

But, of course...

"If you're trying to hide out here, you really outta find a new spot next time. You trying to bore me?"

"I didn't realise it was my job to entertain you, Sevvy," Ryu said. He kept his eyes closed. He hoped that Sevvy might just be a mirage, and when he opened them, he would vanish. He groaned, inwardly, as he heard the scuff of his brother's sandals on the dirt as he sat down next to him.

"Trying to get some beauty sleep?" Sevvy said, hoping for a reaction, Ryu supposed. He ignored him, still hoping he'd catch the idea and go away. Of course, though, Sevvy never did.

For a few minutes it was strangely silent, only Sevvy's slight breathing. Then he said, "Bro, you've got a bite."

Ryu's eyes shot open. A golden glittering fish was struggling on the end of the line, scales flickering like candlelight in the sun. He reeled it in quickly. Ten inches. A good size.

"Nice one," said Sevvy.

Ryu broke the fish's neck with a satisfying snap, and said, "What do you want?"

"You mean there's no way I could convince you I came to find you for some quality bonding time?"

Ryu looked up at him. Sevvy, already long and lanky, was grinning like a cheshire cat.

"You could try," he told him, "or maybe, save both our time and tell me what it is you really want."

Sevvy gave his golden laugh. He was five years younger than Ryu at seventeen, but he still laughed like a little boy.

"You break my heart, bro," he said, and then he told him; "Mother's called a family meeting. She wants everyone back home."

Ryu looked away, at the band of clouds, hanging over the horizon. "Tell her you couldn't find me. I'm still M.I.A."

"You're not, though. I've seen you a few times. You've been circling the citadel for weeks," Sevvy pointed out.

Ryu recast, but here he paused.

"You saw me?" he said.

"Why not come home, Ryu?" Sevvy said, almost gently. "You haven't been back since last solstice."

"I prefer it out here. I'm living as our nomadic ancestors lived-"

"Except that our ancestors weren't antisocial goits," Sevvy said. Ryu stared. Then he set down my rod and stood.

"Are you asking me for a fi-"

Sevvy shoved him in the chest.

"I'm asking you to come home, you great big git. Everyone misses you."

Ryu paused, and turned away. He picked up his rod, his pack. "Yeah, well, I don't miss anybody."

He didn't look at him anymore. He didn't want to see him. Ryu just wanted to be alone. But Sevvy said, "Even if you don't, I should have mentioned: Mother says it's an order. If you don't come, she'll come and find you herself, and it'll be chargrill a'la Ryu."

When he turned back, Sevvy was gone; in the far distance there were wings beating the in the sky.

Prince Ryu swore under his breath. It seemed like, after six months, he was finally going home.

* * *

The citadel, the Basalt Tower, squatted like a crow in the craggy base of Mt. Moon. To find it you only had to follow the Fire Road, no road at all but a cracked molten river, which, a millenia ago, spewed like heaven's fire from the top of the mountain.

The gatemen rolled open the village gates when they saw the prince approaching.

It was livelier than Ryu even remembered. _Or more likely, I've been in the wastes too long. _

Women in wraps were singing as they they hung out the laundry, swinging babies in the other arm. Wild children play fought in the dirt, swinging blunted swords at one another, as he and his brothers had done, long ago. Overpowering smells of saffron, ginger and citrus invaded his senses, and reminded Ryu just how long ago his last proper meal was.

There came up a call of, "Prince Ryu! Prince Ryu!"" and the children came running, crowding around me. "Prince Ryu, you're back!"

The women looked up from their washing, the elders from their games, their engravings. Someone called, "The prodigal son returns!" and someone else, "Hey Ryu, how ya been?"

A scruffy looking tough boy in a loincloth asked him, "Prince Ryu, where did you go?"

"Oh, here and there," he said evasively. But looking at them, he couldn't help but smile, just a bit.

"Where? Where?" they said plaintively. "Tell us stories, like you used to Ryu."

He sat down on the old stone well. "Alright. But keep your pants on. Far to the north, past the mountain, I slept in a sacred grove our nomadic ancestors kept to Ladon. On..."

The children sat beside him, some cross-legged, others lounging on their elbows, as he told them; of the peaked mountains that signposted the end of the world; of the crystal caves, and their million colours, which had sparkled like a incandescent rainbow; and of the cedar trees to the south, as tall as gods.

And as he talked, he glanced up, and his voice trailed away like a banner without a breeze. Sarah stood some way away from the crowd, watching him silently.

"And then what happened?" one of the boys asked him eagerly.

"That's it," he said, all the warmth gone from his voice.

"But-"

"But nothing. Go back to your game."

He stood up sharply, and parting the crowd like water, approached Sarah. A good metre away, he stopped.

"Ryu. It's good to see you again. We were wondering when you were coming back," she said. Her turquoise hair hung in a sailor's rope down her breasts. In her arms she had a little baby swaddled in a blanket. Her other hand she held to her round stomach.

Ryu couldn't help but think about before; how wild she was, how free. Now, she was soft and contented, positively bovine. It made him ill to look at her.

"So what's this one on the way, number three?" he asked. He couldn't keep the ice sneaking into his voice. Somehow, he never could.

But if she heard it, Sarah didn't show it. With a flicker of her old mischievousness, she turned with a smile, to show the other the baby strapped to her back. "Four. It was twins," she said. "Didn't expect that one, I can tell you. Took it out of me. Adorable, aren't they?"

Ryu took a long hard look at the baby in her arms, which had scrunched up its red face and begun to cry.

"Like bouncing bundles of snot," he said.

Sarah's smile fell. She hastily put it back on. Took a step towards him, to say with earnest, "Ryu, I used to think the same way, but once you experience motherhood for yourself, it-"

Ryu turned his back on her, and started walking very quickly towards the citadel. Sarah's hand flew to her mouth.

"Oh Ryu, wait! I'm sorry- I forgot. Please wait!" she hurried after him.

"What, so you can insult me more?" he shot back at her. She was chasing him through the market, vendors turning their heads to stare.

"Please Ryu, can't we walk? It isn't because of me you stay out of Dracon, is it?"

He spun back on her. "Don't give yourself so much credit," he snarled at her. He expected her to say something cruel back, but startlingly, she begun to cry.

"Please, Ryu? I can't stand what's happened between us. Can't we be friends again?"

Somehow, her tears made him even angrier. Why didn't she shout? Why didn't she get mad? What good did crying do? It made him want to strike her, just so she'd strike him back.

He forced himself away from her. Coldly, he said, "We were never just 'friends' and until you remember that, I don't even want to look at you, or your squalling brats."

* * *

Ryu's blood was boiling. It felt like it was going to explode. He was storming through the stone corridors of the citadel, when-

As always, his anger burnt out. It always happened suddenly, like something being shut off. And left an empty space behind. He came to a standstill, and sunk down onto the base of a pillar. What burnt through his veins now was something entirely different: shame.

Just what was wrong with him?

He'd been back in Dracon five minutes and he'd already let Sarah get to him. What good did hurting her do? It didn't make him feel any better. If anything, it made him feel worse.

He'd made a fool of himself, again.

He felt like punching someone. Instead, he punched the wall.

"I can always tell when you're home Prince Ryu. You just follow the holes in the décor."

From round the corner in the citadel was his old swordsmaster, Lebanon, one of the few people he was grateful to see.

"Master Lebanon," he said, leaping up to grip his hand.

"I have to tell you, young prince, there was talk we might never see you again. It's good to have you back." And to Ryu's silence he said, "Though I can tell you're already thinking of how soon you can leave."

Ryu's eyes dulled over. "Out there, it's easier, Lebanon. I've never fitted in here, you know that."

The old man's eyes seemed to pierce him. "And out there, you feel as though you do, hm?"

His immediate response was "Yes," but Ryu paused, because that wasn't quite right. "No," he said. "But everything out there is alone. The rocks and the trees and the stars. They feel what I feel. There's no real such thing as intimacy in this world. I sleep under the stars at night and feel their loneliness and my own, and it makes it something majestic. It comforts me."

Ryu had drawn so far inside himself that when he returned, the sad look on Lebanon's face startled him.

"You're too young to think such things, child."

The doors to the antechamber were flung open, and Sevvy strode through. "Bro, you made it." And when he noticed the hole in the wall he glanced from it to Lebanon and said, "Whoah! Who pissed Ryu off?"

Lebanon turned to go, but before he did, he said to Ryu, " Come visit me before you leave. Promise me this?"

Ryu nodded. And then Sevvy gave him a shove forward. "C'mon. Mother's waiting for us in the counsel room."

They walked forward together through the high vaulted stone corridors lit with braziers, decorated with old, dulled tapestries.

"You know what this is about?" Ryu asked.

Sevvy shrugged sleekly. The sound of their sandals echoed down the corridor.

"Not sure. Something about our treaty with Wyndia."

"Treaty? Weren't we going to war?"

Sevvy laughed. "Clearly the wild pigs aren't much up on recent events, huh? We made a truce with them months ago."

"Wait. A truce? Why?"

"King Philip's daughter died. Since then he hasn't cared much about war."

"One of the twin princesses? When? And which one?"

He was so shocked he stopped in his tracks. Sevvy paused.

"You really are out of the loop. Must have been soon after you left, I guess." Here he looked subdued. "It was Princess Christina. A shame. I liked her."

"Me too," said Ryu, thinking back to the tour she'd made to Dracon some years ago.

How long had it been, since he'd thought of that night?

"Anyway," Sevvy said, heading towards the antechamber. "Locke was disappointed about the treaty. Mother was going to let him lead the first battle." Ryu saw, out the corner of eyes, Sevvy glance at him to see how he took this. But he said nothing. He was thinking of battle; the release of claws and jaws and no one to hold him. Ripping them to shreds, someone, anyone...

Ryu closed his eyes and shut them tight.

Sevvy said, "Alright?"

"Yeah."

They made their way through the throne room, past the seat formed from volcanic rock, where their father, long ago, had once sat.

"So listen. That hole in the wall..."

"I met Sarah."

"I though you might have." He continued quickly, "I told her just to leave you alone, but she didn't listen to me."

He glanced again, quickly, at Ryu to gauge his reaction. Ryu pushed open the door to the counsel room. "Well, Sarah never really listens to anyone, does she?" he said. He couldn't help but let a tiny bit of admiration infiltrate his voice.

* * *

The counsel room was at the base of the citadel, hewn into the rock of the mountainside itself. Tapestries dyed red as blood covered the walls, and moved in the yellow flickering light of the braziers.

Queen Brynhildr, leader of The People sat at the end of the war table, a powerful figure, her hair braided and beaded down to her waist, the colour of all who bore lineage of the dragon clan for the centuries past- blue.

Out of the corner of his eye, Ryu saw Locke, and even with his back set to the brazier he saw the deep disfiguring claw marks on the side of his face that had narrowly missed blinding him. But Ryu kept his eyes fixed on the Queen. He and Sevvy approached. He bowed. "My Queen."

Sevvy said, "What's for dinner?"

Brynhildr laughed. She stood, and clasped Ryu in an embrace.

"My wanderer, how long were you planning to stay away from us this time?"

"I wasn't ready to come back," Ryu said, burying his face in his mother's hair.

"I understand. Yet, if we all wait till we are ready, we'll be waiting forever."

She pulled back, and gestured to the table. "Come and sit. I've important news, for all three of you."

Ryu sat, pulling up the chair with a scrape. Sevvy took a seat beside him. Fixing his eyes on his other brother across the table, he said without emotion, "Locke."

Locke nodded in reply. "Ryu."

Leaning forward on his elbows, Sevvy said, "Is this to do with the Wyndian treaty? I bet thirty zenny that-"

"If you wait, Sevvy, I'll tell you," Brynhildr replied, with a certain amused patience.

From the pocket of her robes, she withdraw a letter, and slid it onto the table. It was embossed with the royal Wyndian seal; a sword crossed with wings.

"Knew it!" started Sevvy. Brynhildr silenced him with a withering look. He zipped his mouth shut.

With two fingers, she slid the letter to Locke. "Read it." He picked it up, and Ryu watched his eyes moving quickly across the paper. When he'd finished, the spat the word, "Savage," and he thrust the letter to Sevvy. With curiosity, Ryu looked over Sevvy's shoulder to read.

_To Queen Brynhildr of the dragon clan,_

_It is with regret I think back on the difficulties between our people in the last year. I would now do my utmost to restore relations between us to what they were. _

_In a month's time my daughter, her highness the princess Nina is to be wed. Therefore I am inviting noblemen who I deem worthy from across the nine lands to come and vy for her hand. In one fortnight time Games will begin, the winner of this tournament will have the privilege of wedding the princess Nina. _

_I would like to cordially invite your sons, the three princes of Dracon to take part in the Games. I hope this will demonstrate that I hold no ill will to you or your people. _

_Philip Wyndia, King of Wyndia, Emperor of the Small Isles and protector of the Faith._

"Games?" Sevvy said, in bafflement. "Are we supposed to win her then, like a trophy?"

"It's one of the more barbarian traditions of the south," Brynhildr said. "They give their girl children away like prizes to be won. Though I have to say I never thought Philip would give away one of his darling daughters this way. Something _has _changed in Wyndia."

Ryu snatched the letter out of Sevvy's hands. He was studying one particular line of text. His brows knotted together. "It says, 'three princes.'"

"Yes."

Ryu looked at her with a question in his eyes. She said, "Are you not then, a prince of Dracon?"

Locke stood violently. He slammed his hands down onto the table. "You have to be kidding me. Mother, you're really not planning to-"

She sat, quite calmly in her seat. "You have an objection?" she said coldly.

"Ladon's fire, I do. What is Wyndia going to do when they find out the thing their princess had been married to is-"

Ryu's chair toppled back. He slammed both his hands, _bam_, against the table. "Say it." The words left him in a snarl. "Say it, and I'll give you another pretty scar to match the other cheek."

"Silence!" Brynhilda was standing now, face red with rage, and somehow Sevvy was up on his feet too. She said, "You will be silent. You-" she whirled on Locke, "you will treat your brother with the respect he deserves. Yes, _brother._" And when Ryu opened his mouth to agree, the finger was pointing his way. "You, Ryu, _will control your temper._ You will not threaten your brother, nor harm him. I'm sick of this infighting, this war between kin. I will tolerate no more violence in this house. If you are Locke's brother you will treat him as a brother. And you, Sevothtarte," she turned on Sevvy, who as always, looked worried at the use of his full name, "just sit down, Sevvy."

Brynhildr sat, her head in her hands. Quietly, with the scraping of chairs, her sons sat down. The silence stretched on. Sevvy looked as though he was about to crack a joke, but thought better of it.

Finally, Brynhildr said, with heaviness, "I'm sending all three of you. Tomorrow, you will leave for Wyndia. Any arguments?"

Silence. She looked, particularly, at Locke, who swore and said Sarah's name under his breath.

"Good," said Brynhildr. "Ladon knows, maybe you'll even have a good time. But at least there will be peace and quiet in Dracon for a few weeks." She stood, gathered her skirts around her and left through the beaded entrance towards the back of the counsel chamber.

There was quiet around the table. Ryu imagined his brothers were thinking the same thing he was: about the tournament, and how exactly they were going to get through this next month without killing one another.

_To be continued._


	2. The Broken Princess

When the story is set: As you might imagine by the rather different tone to the settings, this story is set several thousand years before the start of Breath of Fire 1. The brood haven't separated into different clans yet, the Wyndians still have large wings and Myria and Deis are newly born deities in the world (you'll meet them later). Certain races, like the fairies have more power than in the games and there might be other races too, that have gone extinct.

Please enjoy! And let me know what you think!

**Part Two: The Broken Princess  
**

**By **_Nina Windia_

_Some years ago._

The Oracle was calling to her. Of that the sibyllae were sure. But when the priests came to speak to King Philip of such matters, he was unnerved.

"Dreams? Of visions? Such things are better left unsaid gentlemen." He poked uneasily at his grilled venison. All this talk was putting him off his food- a mean feat to do.

"Your Majesty, the Oracle may want to impart to the Princess her destiny."

Here, the King put his fork down. "_Her_? Are you talking about Nina or Christina?" Even the names sounded strange in his mouth, like foreign food. This was a distinction seldom made. The twin princesses were a singular entity, two prints of the same picture.

The following events, however, were the turning point that would separate them.

"Her Highness the Princess Christina, your Majesty."

The King tapped his knife against the plate. "Very well," he said, voice with the same tang as sour wine. He glanced at the two pestering priests at the end of the long table. He couldn't stand priests. "Send them both. Perhaps it'll do them some good to see the country a bit."

"Both?" one of the priests protested. "But your Majesty, it was only Princess Christina who received the visitation. It would be-"

One look from the King however, and his words withered on the vine. Knitting needles clacked away down the table.

He continued, with indulgence, "It would be cruelty to separate them," before adding, "Besides, I can't split their nurse into two. So they can both go."

Without a word of goodbye, he went back to his food. The ignored priests coughed, whispered to one another, left.

But after a few moments, half way through cutting up his venison, he stopped, staring unhappily at his plate.

"Priests," he said, as though the word was a curse.

"Hmm," replied his wife. He gazed over at her. Rosetta was engrossed in her knitting, a forlock of white fallen over her face.

"Where are the girls anyway?" he said.

Rosetta's needles continued to clack. "Outside in the courtyard again, I imagine." She didn't look up as she spoke to him, only a brief furtive flick of the eyes from under her hair as she asked, "Did you want to speak to them?"

Philip pushed his chair back, went to the window. He looked out. "No. I'll let Olympias do it."

"Hmm," said his wife.

Looking down, he found his ten year old daughters half hidden by the koi pond, the bright sunshine caught in their hair. Both of them were sat by the water, dipping their feet in. One was Christina, the other Nina, but to tell the truth Philip could rarely tell them apart. To tell the truth, it didn't usually matter.

As he watched, one of his daughters tugged down a flower from the juniper tree and cast it on the water like a little boat. He watched then, as her sister copied her, plucking a flower, casting it, in the exact same motion.

He leant on the window frame, a pained look on his face. Rosetta's needles clattered on.

Finally he turned and exclaimed, "Would you stop that infernal racket for just one second? I can't hear myself think."

Silently, Rosetta put her needles down on the table, looking as though she'd been struck.

* * *

Under the the stencilled trellice of the flowering jasmine and juniper trees, Nina and her sister Christina sat watching the flowers float out across the water, their chitons hitched up to bob like foam around their knees.

"Maybe you shouldn't have told Olympias about the dreams," Nina said, pushing the flower-boat out further with her big toe, fascinated as it drifted out across the pond. "They're making a lot of noise about it." Her eyes followed the vines up to the dining room upstairs, from where she could still hear the boom of her father's loud voice. Christina's eyes followed hers, as though she was drawing a trail.

"It's strange," Christina said, taking a palmful of water in her hand, watching it seep between her fingers, and how skin reflected light, as she let it fall onto Nina's bare leg. "When I woke up I got that feeling, like when you've promised someone you'll go see them, but you've forgotten who. Are you sure you didn't feel it as well?"

Nina's face scrunched up, as if in pain. Occationally, they shared dreams. But this time, she shook her head.

"No," she said bitterly.

It was a blisteringly hot day, the whole garden alive with buzzing and flurrying. The light cast their reflections perfectly on the water. Four girls with golden curls and soggy chitons. But when Christina shifted, it sent ripples across the water. The girls were gone; left only was a confused mess.

"Oh!" said Nina, as though she were in pain.

"Girls. Girls!" a muffled voice called. Their heads turned at the exact same instant. The sliding door slammed open with a clack, and under the wraiths of jasmine they could see the swollen ankles of their nurse. Olympias' voice twanged with impatience; "Girls! Are you here?"

With resignation, they crawled out from under the bushes, their dresses sticking slick to their clammy wet legs. At the sight of them, Olympias, who already had the berth of a bull, exhaled a furious breath from her nostrils.

"Someone call the matador," Nina whispered. Christina giggled.

"This is no laughing matter!" Olympias said, in her deep man's voice so much like her brother's; the butt of many of their jokes. "Filthy! Absolutely filthy. And your father wanting you ready to go by three-"

"Go?" asked Nina. "Go where?"

"The Oracle! And now I have get you scrubbed, not to mention-"

"The what?" said Christina.

"The Oracle!" Olympia fumed. "What does Pericades teach you? The sibyllan sisterhood at Mt. Glaus."

The girls were finally silent. Mt. Glaus was a name in a textbook, not even tangible.

Now Olympias was complaining, "-And all these things I do for your father, with no thanks. I'll be damned glad when the two of you become women, I can tell you. If he wasn't my brother, be assured I-

Nina tuned out. Christina was started to get that glazed look in her eyes as well. This was a rant they had to hear at least once a day. By this point it went through two sets of ears and out the other end.

Nina asked, "But why are we going to see the Oracle?"

Olympias started to smile. "Perhaps the King finally saw sense to induct you into the sisterhood? I'm sure you'd make hard-working sibyllae."

The girls went pale.

"Olympias, are you bullying my daughters again?"

The girls let out a shared breath of relief as Rosetta stepped up behind them, her maid at her side. Their mother was as calm and beautiful as always, though a twinge of annoyance pricked at her face as she looked at Olympias.

"Ah, no. Of course not your Majesty," she said with a quick little bow. "It's just that, you know, I like to tease them."

"I know you do," said Rosetta, frowning. "And although you may be my husband's sister, I will remind you that you remain here only on his goodwill."

Olympias purpled. Her mouth puckered with some retort, but at Rosetta's icy gaze it deflated.

"Your Majesty," she mumbled, with another bow, her sandals _clop clopping_ on the stone as she beat a hasty retreat.

Nina and Christina ran to embrace their mother. "Mother, is it true? Is Father really sending us away to become sibyllae?" Christina asked, upset.

Rosetta gently prised them away, detaching Nina's wet fingers where they clung to her robe.

"Your nurse was just teasing you," she said. "You're going to the Oracle to speak with it. It's a great honour that most people never receive. So be on your best behaviour, yes?"

"Okay," they chanted.

"Then be good for Olympias and go pack your things." She eyed their dirty chitons. "And go change into something clean," she said.

* * *

After trying to be authoritative with it, shouting at it, Nina had no choice but to plead with the horse.

"Good boy. There's a good boy," she said, though he was being anything but good, bucking and rearing under her. She clung round the horse's neck like a shipwrecked sailor to a spar. "Please boy," she begged. "Come on."

The horse responding by throwing Nina clean off. A tuft of mane came off in her hand, and she hit the ground with a thump and cloud of dust.

The rest of the escort halted, again, and one of the newer recruits, Dante, leapt from his mount to kneel by her side.

"You alright Princess?" he said.

She blinked up at him, the sun bright in her eyes. "Y-yeah."

When the rest of the convey saw she okay, they burst into laughter. Sat up, Nina stared at them, winded and stupid.

Until she saw Christina, perched as gracefully on her mare as always, giggling into her hand.

Nina flushed. Tears stung in her eyes.

But then Dante offered her a hand up.

"Nevermind Princess. We can't all be good at everything," he said, smiling.

Nina swatted his hand away. "You don't understand anything," she said, and staggering to her feet took back hold of the reigns.

* * *

"It's funny," said Antonio wryly, one of the more senior members of the kingsguard, riding beside Dante as they picked their way through the fields. "I can never tell them apart, till they get on a horse."

Even as they watched, Nina's horse flicked its high proud head, and made off at a gallop, Nina clinging on for dear life. Olympias, perched like a mountain on her horse was shouting, and Dante was about to kick his spur in when Christina sprinted past and helped reign Nina's horse back under control.

"Why doesn't she just ride with her nurse?" Daniel said.

Antonio shrugged. "She always insists. Even though it's like this every time."

When they caught up with the princesses, Christina was trying to instruct her sister.

"And if you sit more like this-"

Dante watched. Nina was straining with concentration, following every single flick of her sister's movements with her eyes. Her mouth was set with a frown of grim determination.

Dante couldn't help but wonder what they would be like when they grew up. In his experience, no siblings could remain so close forever, could they?

In the end, Nina gave up and rode with Christina, sitting sullenly with her hands round her waist, face buried in the small of her back.

* * *

Fields gave way to forest as the White Palace sunk like a sail under the horizon. Light spilled through the massive trees of the Cedarwoods, twinkling in the canopy, a star-studded cradle overhead.

Nina had never been so far from the palace. All her life the world had been made up of fields of golden waving wheat; the only sea she'd ever seen was the wind rustling through the eaves of corn. Now the ground became rugged, as Mt. Glaus loomed over the horizon, ugly as a cist.

One of Olympias' common threats rung in her ears; _Mt. Glaus, where they'll send you if you ruin another of your bloody dresses one more time! _

She pressed herself closer to her sister's back. Christina smelled like clean linen and dandelions.

The temple was set at the base of the mountain, hunched like an old woman steadying herself against a wall. Nina sniffed. There was a strange smell in the air, kind of like the palace plumbing when you first turned on the hot water.

When they reached the temple, Christina swung herself off. Nina swallowed her pride and let Christina help her down. The rest of the escort dismounted, and one of the members of the kingsguard stayed to tether and watch the horses.

A figure approached, born from the shadows of the temple. Before Nina saw her, she heard her; the dozens of tiny tinkling bells sewn into the hem of her gown. A sibylla in her long sibyllae green robes, face shrouded under her hood.

"Please, follow me," she said. From the slice of face Nina could see, she wasn't much older than her. She turned and headed inside.

"Do you think her parents sold her?" Nina whispered. Christina, biting down nervously on her bottom lip, just shook her head.

The entourage entered the temple, a clean space of light granite, light filtering in through the high slits in the walls. Two other sibyllae, sweeping and talking quietly together, ceased as the convey entered. On the alter were offerings of fruit and rice cakes. There were no emblems or talismans. This god, one of many in Wyndia, had as of yet no name or symbol.

At the back of the temple steps descended downward. Here their guide stopped them. "Only those the Oracle has called may enter the inner temple," she said. The guards looked at one another. "You may wait here."

"I'm the King's sister," Olympias blistered. "I'm—"

"Only those the Oracle has called may enter," the girl said. There was no expression in her voice.

Christina reached out and took her sister's hand. "We'll be fine, Olympias," she said.

They wouldn't be alone. After all, they were never alone.

The two girls descended alone into the darkness. The stairway cut down directly into the volcano. It was not dark and cold, but dry and hot, tanzanite veins running through the rock, the torches burning low. Nina thought she saw, out of the corner of her eye, strange markings flittering under the rock like bruises.

After an eternity, the stairway levelled out. The dark tunnel opened out into a stomach; a wide, high natural dome that opened at the top to show a slice of blue sky. In the centre there was a great rend in the earth, which steam curled out of in ghastly wreaths.

Around the rend was a circle of sibyllae, their hands touching. At no visible cue, they began to sing. It startled Nina; they were singing in old Wyndian, the tongue of the First People of Wynd. But this was no old chanting, no dull droning as the priests did at the solstice. It was as though these women and girls were possessed. The chanting ripped up through them and out of their mouths, until they were overcome by the power of their song, till it was too much for them, slipping out of the chain to collapse onto their knees. There was no accompanying music, no instruments. But the sound of those girls screaming, echoing wall against wall, back again, left shivering running down Nina's spine. She gripped her sister's hand tighter.

The last remnants of the song died away. Out of the circle, an old crone approached them, still dignified despite her hunchback, her deathly white skin from a life in the dark.

"Excuse me, but are you the Oracle?" Christina asked. The old woman laughed. A strange hoarse voice.

"I'm just a sibylla child," she said. "The Oracle is no mortal. Yet she stands before you." And she extended her hand to the great rift. "When mortals speak with the Oracle, they are shown visions, revealing who they are meant to be. Some are even shown their destiny."

The girls were bolt-upright. Their destiny!

"Will we find out who we are to marry?" Nina asked with excitement.

The old woman laughed. "You may find out more than that, child." And then she looked bemused. "The Oracle called for one young woman. Yet there are there are two of you."

"We are one person," said Nina. "We have always been together. Christina's destiny is mine, too."

"Then you both recieved the visitation?"

Nina was silent. Christina said, "It was just me."

"Having the same face does not amount to much. You are still separate people. You have your own fates ahead of you. The Oracle only called one of you here."

Nina was about to protest, but here Christina gripped her hand tighter. She said, "I only want my destiny if Nina is in it! Who is this oracle to tell us we are to be apart?" Nina's heart was bursting with happiness. The sibylla's brow creased.

"Very well. As you wish," she said unhappily. "You will both speak to the oracle. But child," she addressed Nina, "do not expect to see anything. The Oracle speaks to the few whom it chooses. "

Nina looked at the rift. She was beginning to feel a slight trepedition. But she wanted to know her future, didn't she?

The sibylla took her arm and led her towards the pit. For such an old woman, her grip was strong. Christina was led away towards the catacombs at the back of the chamber.

"Christina!" she said. She turned back to the sibylla furiously. "Where are you taking her?"

"Such a temper! No one but a sibylla can witness a mortal's audience with the oracle. Likewise, you must never speak of what you witnessed here."

It was rare for the two sisters to be apart from one another, even out of sight. Nina bit her lip, angry and upset.

The sibylla pushed her towards the pit. "Go on then. Look."

Was this all there was to it? Nina shuffled towards the edge, and looked down. At once she caught a lungful of the harsh sulfurous vapours. It stung her throat and chest and she pulled back, coughing. The old woman had hold of her head. She pushed her back over. Said, "Look."

All she saw was smoke. And under that, black. Under that, nothing.

"Look at what?" she exclaimed, coughing furiously. "There's nothing there."

"Look into the nothing. Reach for it," said the sibylla. She was beginning to understand why the sibylla all spoke with such strange, hoarse voices. Why did Nina ask for this? With the old woman's hard grip on the back of her head, she had no choice but to do as she was told and look. As she did, she heard the tinkling of bells as the other sibyllae spread around her, joining their hands once again. One by one they begun to keen, chanting in their warbling, screeching voices.

Nina was beginning to feel woozy. All the vapours were clouding her head, the noise from the sibyllae overwhelming. She begun to see things moving in the smoke. Wraiths joining together, hands reaching out for her—

"No!" Nina exclaimed. She scrunched up her eyes and tried to tear out of the sibylla's grip.

"Look," said the sibylla. "Look!"

She opened her eyes fearfully. The world was becoming distorted. The keening voices went on and on, without breath. The bells on their skirts echoed in her brain. And the nothingness— it was coming for her!

The ground was ripped out from beneath her feet, and headfirst she tumbled into the abyss. She flapped her wings, but they didn't work! And the most terrifying thing— she saw that however long she fell, she would never reach the bottom. There was no bottom. There was only nothingness. For her, there would only ever be nothingness. And she screamed and fell and screamed again—

She kept screaming, even when she saw she was lying on the earth. The chanting had stopped— the sibyllae were staring at her. The old woman took a step back. She kept screaming. The nothingness was in her head. It wouldn't get out!

"_Nina_!" Christina broke free from the sibyllae restraining her and ran towards her sister. Nina fell into her sister's arms, her scream turning to mere whimpers, clutching hold of Christina's pinafore.

"What did you do to her?" Christina was demanding. But Nina couldn't concentrate. The nightmare was beginning to fade away, but not the terror that came with it. Because this was different from any childish nightmare she'd had before.

This was real.

The nothingness hadn't completely gone. Now, in her sister's arms she was safe. But the nothingness was still there, curled tightly like a wyrm, waiting for his chance, any moment of weakness inside her.

"I saw— I saw—" she stuttered, through chattering teeth.

"The Oracle spoke to you. You must not relay its words. It is forbidden," the old woman said sharply.

Nina said nothing. She clung to her sister, tighter. She wouldn't let her go— no, not ever!

"May I speak with the Oracle?"

Nina looked up sharply. "N-no! Christina, you mustn't!" she pleaded.

But Christina's face was the same as those nights. When she'd sat bolt upright, and said, "Someone is calling to me." Her eyes were glazed. It looked as though she was seeing past her, into another world.

"Of course," the old sibylla said. "It was to you the Oracle called."

"Christina! No! You can't…" But she was prised away from her sister. She couldn't fight back. All her energy had gone out of her.

And yet, Christina's face was contented. As she was pulled away, she saw her smile. "Don't worry about me, Nina," she said. That glazed look — that wasn't her sister. Where was she? What had they done with her?

Two young sibyllae took her to a room and gave her a drink. But she couldn't hold it; it slipped and smashed on the ground. The two girls stood back, whispering to one another, looking wary.

She seemed to wait forever. Why was it taking so long? Was that nothingness capturing Christina, too?

But when Christina was led back to her, she was aglow. The sibyllae flocked around her, trying to touch her. She approached Nina, and her face was serene, her pale eyelids heavy. A sheen was on her brow. She reached out and took hold of Nina's arms, her voice breathless.

"I called to God," she said. "And She spoke to me. _She spoke to me._"

* * *

_Twelve years later. _

"Hey, have I seen you somewhere before?"

The groan of sheets. The slap of skin on stone as she slid barefoot out of bed, pushing her damp hair up behind her.

"I doubt it," she said.

"No, I'm sure I've seen you before. Turn around a minute."

She turned. A woman of twenty and two, a trickle of hair falling between her breasts, tuft golden down between her thighs. Her white wings were like an angel's. Nina looked down on the sailor with dulled eyes and the dream of an old smile playing on her lips.

"Have you been to the Moon Under the Water?" she asked.

"Of course," said the sailor. He had hair black as a squid's ink and a handsome face. Lounged back on the bed, he dragged on the reed. "The wine there's great, and it's cheap, too."

"I used to dance there," she said. She slipped, one knee first, onto the bed, and took the reed from his mouth. She breathed in, and exhaled a ring of smoke, which vanished into the air. "That's where you know me from."

Placing the reed back in his hand, she shrugged on her chiton and wrapped it round her waist. The sailor laid back, watching her with a lazy contented smile.

"So that's it. You know Bianca then?"

"Yes."

"And Kynna?"

"Of course. Who doesn't?"

He laughed to himself. In the mirror, Nina wiped away the black eyepaint that had smudged. She moved to the beaded threshold.

"You going already?" he asked with disappointment.

"Afraid so."

He laid the dregs of the smoking reed down in the basket. "Will I see you again?" he asked.

She paused at the threshold. Smiled. "No," she said.

* * *

Nina made her way through the bazaar of the Old Quarter, under the bright silk canopies and through the stacked baskets of fresh pomegranates and aubergines. As she drifted past the smoking house, the scent of shisha wafted out.

"Zenny for an orphan? Zenny for an orphan, lady?" a little beggar boy asked, tugging at her skirts. He'd covered his skin in vinegar to make it look like it was hideously disfigured and covered in boils. Silently, she pressed a coin into his hand anyway.

Out of the bazaar, she climbed the white marble steps up to the back entrance of the palace. At the gate there, a solider stood in her way.

"What do you want, woman? This is no place for you."

"I've been hired by the King. A woman named Zilpah said she would meet me here."

"Hired for what, woman? I think you're a liar. I think you're here for a free meal." The man stood, rather obstinately, in her way. Nina's brow furrowed in annoyance.

"Listen, I can't really tell you. It's meant to be secret," she said.

The solider looked at Nina like she was a insect he'd like to crush under his foot.

She moved a little closer to him. He raised his eyebrows. "But, you look like a trustworthy man. I'm actually a courtesan, hired for his Majesty's pleasure. My mother was Bianca the Beauty, courtesan to King Edmure of Ludia. She trained me in the seven sacred carnal arts. One of the staff said she would meet at the back entrance to escort me in."

By now the soldier's eyebrows were up in his hair. At that moment, Zilpah, her handmaid, opened the door.

"This is the woman I was waiting for," Nina said patiently.

"I— you know her?" the soldier spluttered. Zilpah nodded.

"Excuse me," said Nina, rearranging her shawl. Flabbergasted, the man backed up against the wall to let Nina through. She pulled up the door behind her, and burst out laughing.

"Princess…" Zilpah's mouth was set in a very fine, quivering line. She looked like she was about to cry. "Princess, I waited for you for hours. This new man showed up, and I couldn't get him to leave. You said you would be back by noon."

Zilpah was younger than her by several years, a girl of burnished copper skin from the nomadic hill tribes. From the last few months she'd been Nina's handmaid. She'd tried not to get too attached to her— because invariably, as soon as she did there would be a different haidmaid waiting for her, and she'd never hear from the old one again.

Nina touched her on the arm. "I'm sorry, Zilpah. Something came up. I didn't mean to worry you."

"It's not me you should worry about. Aren't you worried the King will find out you've been leaving the palace?" she whispered.

Nina shrugged. "Not really."

"But wouldn't he punish you?"

"Oh, yes."

Zilpah was staring at her like a stranger.

"Princess, sometimes I don't understand you at all," she said, shaking her head.

"That's fine," was all Nina said. "Now come. I want to go to the crypt."

"Again?" Zilpah said weakly.

Nina said, "I won't leave her."

* * *

A series of wind driven turbines brought the water upwards to feed the hanging gardens, a botanical miracle for access only to the royal family and their noble guests.

In the centre of the gardens, there was the crypt.

Nina and Zilpah gathered handfuls of orchids from the garden, a peacock strutting past them with his amazing tail of feathers. In the gazebo made from latticed marble white stone, she could hear her cousin Drypetis giggling with her bastard half-sister, Kleopatra. She ignored them; they her.

Silently, Zilpah lagging behind, they descended into the crypt. The bright sunlight faded away, replaced by cold stone. They went deeper, their footsteps loud in the darkness.

At the bottom of the crypt, statues of her haughty ancestors stood tall, staring at her with eyes blinded by moss. She passed by them all.

There, at the back of the crypt on a raised stone slab surrounded by a hundred burning candles, lay her sister.

Nina and Zilpah laid the flowers at the foot of the alter, to join the dozens of other bouquets placed by her family, the many sympathetic visitors, her multitude of followers.

"Sister," she said, words like pebbles down a deep well.

The enchantment that had been put on her meant that Princess Christina only looked like she was sleeping. Almost six moons since she'd been laid in the crypt and it didn't look a day. They'd laid her out in her best tunic. Her hair, brushed out, sparkled like spun gold. She wore her crown, a thin band of silver. The candlelight moved over her face, and gave the semblance of life that wasn't there.

Even though it'd been months, some part of Nina always felt surprised to see her lying there. She wanted to shake her back to life, ask her why she was lying there, tell her to get up. She thought, in the back of her mind, that Zilpah must wonder why she always wanted to visit the crypt. Because everytime she did Nina would just stand and stare at her sister's face, as though she couldn't tear her eyes away from it.

"If she was one of my people, they would have buried her in a field of flowers. Not here," Zilpah said.

Nina tore her eyes away from her sister's body, surprised to hear Zilpah break her silence. Her handmaid was shaking slightly. Perhaps from the cold. Perhaps not.

"She wouldn't have wanted it that way. Hers was a cold, dark god. He didn't have anything to do with with fields of flowers," Nina said.

Zilpah shook her head, to show what she thought of Christina's cold dark god.

"It's unnatural," she said, "that she should lie like this, when her soul's long gone."

"Don't worry. The spell will keep her body fresh so long as the embalmer restores it. She won't rot." As she spoke, she stepped up over the flowers, and sat by Christina's side on the alter. She pressed a hand against her sister's cheek. It was warm.

"I don't mean that." Zilpah shook her head with determination. She took a step towards the alter. "Princess, how can you begin to finishing mourning her when they won't lay her to rest?"

"Is that why you think we come here everyday? So I can mourn my sister?"

"Princess?" Confusion in her voice.

"Oh, that's funny. Zilpah, I didn't know you were so funny." And she laughed, a frightening laugh that resounded too loudly in the walls of the tomb.

Zilpah said nothing. She looked scared.

Nina's laugh died. Her face was pale. "Shall I tell you the truth?" she said, her voice small. "I come here because I want to mourn Christina. I want to feel sad. Even if I felt miserable, at least I'd feel something. But I don't feel anything. Anything at all."

* * *

For a miracle to happen, someone has to be equally cursed. That's what Nina believed.

But then, what was the point of it all? What good did it do? Everything that had happened between them had been erased in a single instant.

_Why did you die, Christina? And what am I supposed to do now? _

She felt like she was watching her life from underwater. Everything was blurred, silent, indistinct. She caught only the remnants of light skipping across the surface. She didn't know what she was doing or where she was going. Days passed in drips and drops or swum by in the blink of an eye.

Her mother slapped her, hard.

She was stood in Queen Rosetta's chambers of silver brocade and silk curtains. She raised her hand, to touch her burning cheek.

"Just what is wrong with you?" her mother said.

_You tell me, _she thought.

"I warned you expressly. I told you you were forbidden to leave the palace and you still— Nina, are you listening to me?"

"I'm listening."

"You don't look like it." Rosetta fell quiet. Her hair was as white as a dove, several prominent on her forehead, though she wasn't a day over forty. There were no laugh lines around her mouth— for the last few years, she'd had little reason to laugh.

"You aren't still seeing that soldier, are you?" she said quietly.

"Dante left Wyndia a year ago, Mother. If you remember, there was a warrant out for his execution." There was no sarcasm in Nina's voice; the words fell simply like snow.

"Exactly as there should have been," her mother said. Getting the feeling a lecture was coming on, Nina parted the coloured silk curtains with her hand and drifted out onto the balcony. She leaned over on the railing, looking out at the golden landscape set alight by the slanting yellow light of sunset.

"What did you ask me here for?" she said.

"I can't even invite my own daughter to my rooms without being questioned?"

The truth laid in the silence that slipped between them like sand.

"I don't want to argue with you," her mother said. She approached by Nina's side. "I have news for you, from your father."

"News he couldn't tell me himself?"

"You know your father's thoughts are occupied right now. He has a lot on his mind."

"I know. Mainly what's between Eurydyke thighs."

Her mother hit her, again.

"Why do you do this? Do you enjoy hurting people?" she asked.

"I don't like her anymore than you do," Nina said. In fact, she couldn't stand the woman. For the last few years, Eurydyke and her bastards had strode about the palace like they owned it, taking her mother's handmaids, her chambers, most of all: her dignity.

Rosetta spoke very quickly, as though she was tearing off a bandage: "You're getting married."

"I'm what?"

"You heard me. It's your father's decision. The suitors have already been invited. There's going to be a tournament."

Nina turned to look at her mother. Rosetta couldn't meet her eyes.

"And what did you say to him?" she asked.

"What could I say?"

Nina looked out at the city. "I see," she said.

"Well?" said her mother.

"Well what?"

"I thought you'd say something. I told your father you'd be angry."

"What do I think? I think father would never have arranged something like this for Christina."

Her mother flinched at the sound of her other daughter's name. Heatedly she said, "I wish you wouldn't always compare yourself to your sister. It's—"

"True though, isn't it?"

"Your father has to do something. The morale of the city is at an all time low since, since…" her voice trailed off, and strengthened. "You're out of control, Nina. You don't listen to anyone. You do what you want. Your shamed not just yourself but your whole family with what you did with that soldier. If you were a lowborn girl, you'd have been given to the sibyllan sisters long ago. Now the only thing that could improve your reputation is a reputable marriage to a respectable nobleman."

The light was fading now, the golden glow dimming to a simmer upon the horizon.

"Nina, are you even listening to me?"

_To be continued. _


	3. Night of the Ladonia

**A/N- Hope this doesn't cause too much confusion. I decided I wanted another chapter set in Dracon before Ryu left for Wyndia, so I've moved the order of the chapters around just a little: part three is now part four. **

**I've also changed** the uninvited guest** a little, to match up better with this chapter. **

**Part 3: Night of the Ladonia**

**By **_Nina Windia_

Lights danced like fireflies on the side of the mountain. A full moon perched, a fat coin on the horizon, the night sky dusted with a sprinkling of stars.

On the top of the mountain, a great bonfire was burning, bright enough to be seen for leagues around, casting the revellers in flickering shades of red. A great drum kept the beat: _boom-boom-boooom_, it sounded.

Every single member of Ryu's tribe had gathered here this night, to celebrate the most important event in a clansman or clanswoman's life: their Ladonia.

The _Answerer to the Call_, Anissa, sat on a woven mat surrounded by her kin as they fawned over her, feeding her sweetcake and olives. She was Sarah's sister, a thin spritely girl of ten and four, with Sarah's same mop of turquoise hair, which, as Ryu watched, Sarah was braiding into intricate rows. Anissa wore necklaces of strung beads and shining stones that hung low over her bare chest. Her eyes were closed, as her brother painted her face with the dye made from the sacred tree sap.

Ryu sat with several of his cousins, the heat of the bonfire blazing on his face and arms. They talked and laughed and tore of chunks of floury flatbread and shared them round, and Ryu took a piece and chewed on it, gazing up at the flames. They'd long given up on asking him questions. Thankfully, his return was overshadowed by the ceremony: this is Anissa's day, and Ryu was grateful.

"Dag, stay back from the fire! You'll hurt yourself," Wylla, his round-faced cousin called.

"No! Dag no get hurt! Dag dragon!" shouted the little boy. He poked his stick into the fire; it spat out flames at him and he yelled. There was a ruckus, and Wylla scooped up the burnt, balling child. His other cousins fussed at him.

"You silly boy!" Wylla chided him. "What have I told you? Without Ladon's blessing…"

Ryu, who'd had enough of the boy's wailing, walked away and left them to it. With the fuss, they didn't notice him leaving.

The revellers tried to pull him over to join him before the fire, their faces and chests painted, giving themselves up in ecstasy to the god. Sevvy was with them, swinging his latest girlfriend around wildly. Ryu escaped away.

Through the flames, he could see Brynhildr with several elders, and Locke. She sat cross-legged on a mat, meditating. As the chief, she was preparing for her own part in the ceremony, one she'd performed at every Ladonia since the demise of her husband some sixteen years past.

All dragon clansmen had sensitive, animalistic senses. After his time in the wilderness, Ryu's were razor sharp. Although it was spoken in a murmur, the whisper caught round Ryu and hooked him like a lure.

_Look. Ryu's back._

_Rick said he was. Where do you think he's been all this time? _

_Wylla reckons the poor whelpling's still heartbroken. _

_Well, shunning everybody in the village isn't going to help. _

Ryu walked on, the the voices still chased him.

_What Locke did wasn't right, but you have to admit it turned out for the best. His and Sarah's daughters are just precious. Meriaten is just starting to toddle now; it's adorable. _

_The way Ryu dresses and acts is Ryu's business, but…_

_Yes, I know what you mean. Actually taking a woman was going too far. _

Ryu had had enough. His blood pounding in his ears, he stormed away toward the mountain path. He never should have come.

It was easy, objectively, to judge, when they didn't understand the first thing about him.

_Why's he wearing that southern tunic? _Another whisper floated out. _He's our prince, not a barbarian. _

_Well now, _replied another voice, rather cattily, _he couldn't wear a loincloth, after all. _

He hated this village, the people in it. The way they spoke of him, it was as though they owned him.

And the fact that every single one of them knew of his humiliation, his whole history, didn't help either.

He stormed down onto the path.

"Ryu? You're not leaving, are you?"

He turned. It was Anissa, her hair braided, intricate swirls and patterns covering her face, arms, chest and from out under her belted, jewelled loincloth, even her legs.

"Anissa," he said, measuredly, "congratulations. But I have to go."

She clasped hold of his hand. "Every clansmember is required to attend a Ladonia," she said.

How could he explain that he didn't feel as though he were a clansmember? That he wasn't a part of these people?

"I heard them talking about you," she said. She shook her head in disgust, the bells in her hair clashing. "They're idiots, Ryu. Ignore them and come sit with my family."

The look he gave her told her in no little words he'd rather put his head in a pot of vinegar than sit with Sarah and her kin.

"Oh, right," she said, laughing embarrassedly. When he tried to make off again, she clutched his hand tighter.

"_Please_, Ryu. This is my Ladonia. It's important to me."

"I know Anissa. But you don't understand." By the fire, Locke sat down next to Sarah and put his arm around her. Baby Meriaten toddled towards them, and fell into Locke's lap. He whisked her up above his head, as though she was flying.

Anissa was following the line of his eyes. "I do," she said.

"How could you? You're a child."

The bells in her hair clashed. She gazed at him fiercely. "As of today, I'm a woman." It was strange: he could see so much of her sister in her like this, the girl she used to be.

"Yes," he said, distantly. "You are."

She nodded. "I know what love is. I have a mate: Tommen."

"Tommen?" he remembered the boy. He was a good one, though he'd been a child when he last saw him.

"As soon as he receives his call, we're going to be married."

"As soon as that?" Ryu asked, surprised.

Her eyes flashed. "I won't let anyone have him. He's mine. I decided that, when I saw what happened to you."

Ryu was silent.

"You know what I would do, if one of my sisters stole Tommen away from me? I'd kill her, kin or no. And him as well, for betraying me. "

Ryu shook his head. "It's a great crime, to kill one's kin."

"I don't care!" Her hands were balled into fists. "Kin who steal away something precious from you are no kin at all."

Concerned, Ryu reached out. He put his hand on Anissa's patterned shoulder. "Your sisters would never do that to you, Anissa. Locke… he did that because he thought he was taking nothing from me. Because I…" his words trickled away like a drying brook. "He was wrong. Very wrong," he said simply.

Anissa put her hand over his. "I've spoken to my father about Tommen, but he thinks we're too young to marry…" Yes, Ryu imagined Frode would. He considered the old man's troubles: one rebellious daughter, and now another. Almost enough to feel sorry for him— though not quite. "But Ryu," her eyes lit up, "_you_ could give us your blessing to marry."

"I'm not sure Frode would forgive me."

"He doesn't, anyway," Anissa said. A fair point.

"Alright," Ryu said. "I'd be happy to give you my blessing. But wait until Tommen comes of age, first. I won't bless children. "

Anissa clasped her hands together. "Oh thank you, Ryu!" Onto the tips of her toes, she planted a huge kiss on his cheek, and spun away. "I need to get ready now, but thank you! I won't forget it."

Ryu felt his cheek where Anissa's lips had touched it: an alien feeling.

It occured to him that perhaps Anissa hadn't been concerned at all about Tommen and her sisters. Her words had been purely to comfort him.

An alien feeling, indeed.

* * *

As he moved back into the celebrations, a circle of old men hailed him over. "Ryu! Young man!" Lebanon called. "Come join us."

"We need some young blood to keep us warm," said Elder Byrion, chuckling.

"Tch! You make us sound like vampires," said Elder Gungir. He patted the space beside him, and Ryu sat. "We were just reminiscing our own Days, as ancient as that probably sounds to a youngster like you, Ryu."

Ryu smiled, tightly.

"I remember my Call like it was just yesterday," mumbled Bifrost, the most ancient of the lot. "Ladon appeared to me in the guise of a blood-soaked warrior. The dream was so vivid, I thought it was real… he knew about the battle, although it wouldn't happen for thirty score years. He took me to the top of the mountain and became an eagle…"

The Call was different for every clansman. But these things were the same: it happened anywhere between the ages of eight and sixteen, during a dream that seemed more real than real life. In in that dream, Ladon would appear to them, and offer to reveal the secrets that lurked within their bloodline: the power of wyvern.

Ryu had been sixteen when the dream had come to him, One of the latest in his generation to receive it, he had worried that the Call would never come.

When it had, it had been nothing like he had expected.

* * *

_Footfalls on stone slab floors. Ryu was walking through the corridors of the Citadel, a small child again. Someone was holding his hand. He looked up, and saw his father's familiar beard, his bushy eyebrows. They walked some way together in quiet comfort, before Ryu recalled— "Father, what are you doing here? You're dead."_

_The King didn't look down at him. He continued walking, eyes ahead of him. _

"_You are correct, Ryu," he said. "I am not the man who gave you life. However I am still your father, and the father of all others call the Brood."_

_The fact that Ryu was speaking was to the father of all dragons, Ladon, should have come as a shock to him, yet, at the time, there seemed nothing more natural. _

_The citadel around them faded, and Ryu found himself sat in a starlit forest. Water inside the hollow of a tree stump reflected a crescent moon. One of the groves sacred to Ladon. _

_Still in his father's guise, Ladon sat opposite Ryu on a felled tree, sweeping his robes up behind him. _

"_I'm here, Ryu, because I sense in you a great need for power." Ryu nodded. "Why?" asked the dragon god. _

"_To protect myself. To prove myself," said Ryu. _

"_To whom?"_

"_To everybody." _

_Ladon leant forward, thoughtful hands pressed together, touching his forehead. _

"_Your heart is filled with anger and confusion," he said. _

_The question he had been dying to ask the god since he was a small boy burst from his lips, unfettered. "Ladon, please tell me. Why am I like this?" He gestured to himself, with a motion of disgust. "It's all wrong. Did I do something to deserve it? Did I sin in a past life, or…?"_

_Ladon shook his head. "The stuff of souls is not my domain, Ryu. I only guide them. But, I see before me a body that is healthy. Is that not enough?"_

"_It's not mine," said Ryu. _

_Ladon was quite a long time, his eyes closed in concentration. "You wish for the power of the wyvern?" he said at last. _

"_Yes."_

"_I don't know if you're ready." Ryu stared. "Your heart is lost in clouds of confusion and loneliness. Only a clear soul can hear the voice of the wyvern." _

"_But I __**am**_ _ready." Without meaning to, Ryu stood. _

"_This is so important to you?"_

"_If I can't control the wyvern, it'll be just one more thing that's wrong with me," he said. "Lord Ladon, please. You __**have **__to." _

_Ryu shocked himself with his audacity. He stepped back. But Ladon didn't get angry, as he feared. Instead, he said, "Very well, Ryu." His eyes opened, and they were not his father's eyes. They were luminous, bright yellow. "The full moon," he said. "You will have the power of which you seek."_

_On the water of the tree stump, the reflection, the crescent moon became half, three quarters, became a brilliant orb, shining on the still surface._

"_I will meet you there," Ladon said. _

* * *

_He was right, _thought Ryu, _but I didn't listen. _

"— and walked right across the flames, like he said I would. And even—" mumbled Bifrost, who was apparently still in the midst of his story.

"Alright, Bifrost, you've told us a dozen times before," Gungir said, putting his hand on the man's back. He smiled wryly at Ryu. "Sorry son, us old timers invited you over and haven't let you say a word. Why don't you tell the story of your Ladonia?"

A sharp, pointed silence.

Lebanon coughed. Gungir's eyes widened as the memory came back to him. It wasn't, after all, an easy one to forget.

"Sorry, Ryu," said Gungir, with embarrassment. "I imagine you wouldn't want to tell that one." He reached a hand towards Ryu, perhaps to comfort him, but at the last minute changed his mind. He let it drop.

"It's fine," said Ryu, tightly.

All attention was drawn from him when the fire, burning brightly, flashed a golden green.

"It's time_," _said Lebanon.

* * *

Brynhildr stood before the flames, her twin wands of ebony and ivory upholded above her head: one of the reasons in the south she was named the Northern Witch.

The flames flickered, again, transforming a deep emerald green.

"Lord Ladon!" Bryhildr cried, loud enough for the whole tribe to hear. "Lord Ladon, we hear you!"

Over two hundred voices joined together, rumbling the words, "_Lord Ladon, we hear you!"_

The flames responded, spewing out sparks into the sky. Brynhildr's wands clashed together.

"Lord Ladon, there is one before you seeking your strength and protection," Brynhildr called. "Her name is Anissa, daughter of Frode."

Stood in the crowd, Ryu joined in the cries. A tumult of voices, all calling, "_Anissa! Anissa!_"

From out of the mass of bodies, Anissa stepped forward. Her eyes were pitched forward. Her steps rung with determination. Brynhildr took hold of her hand, and guided her towards the fire.

"With this power," Brynhildr said, "do you promise to protect your kin, our clan, our way?"

"Yes," said Anissa.

"Do you swear to take Ladon, our lord, as your master, forsaking all other gods?"

"Yes."

"With this power, do you swear to destroy our enemies, all those that would harm us, or stand against us?"

"Yes."

"Then step through the fire," Brynhildr said.

A silence fell over the crowd like ash. Every single clansman was lifting a prayer in their heart, that Anissa's soul would be clear enough, her promises would ring true, and Ladon would allow Anissa to walk through his flames unscathed.

Ryu heard his mother whisper to the girl, "Don't let your concentration waver. Step forward, and do not falter."

_Ladon, protect her, _Ryu prayed, holding the talisman round his neck tight in his hand.

Anissa stepped forward. If there was fear in her heart, she did not show it. Her head was held high.

As she came closer to the fire, Ryu could feel it in his own memories; the crippling heat, the catch in your breath as it stole the air from your lungs. His own heart had been trembling, though he'd willed it to be still: tried to cast away the thoughts of the peers he himself had seen burnt into nothing.

He clutched the talisman, tighter, as Anissa vanished into the flames.

—And an almighty roar shook the ground.

The wind howled, the flames trembled. Out of them, parting the fire like a knife through butter, came a clawed foot.

The dragon that emerged from the flames was easily ten foot, sea green scales murmuring in the reflection of the fire. The ground moved as it stepped forward on powerful muscled legs, stretched its ribbed wings. Smoke spilled from its nostrils: the dragon raised her face to the sky, and let loose a cloud of fire.

The faces all around Ryu were a sea of relief.

Ryu had clutched his talisman so tight the shape had embedded itself his palm. He let go now, breathing again.

"Anissa," said Brynhildr. She stood, insignificant before the dragon. It turned, earth trembling, to face her, and knelt down onto its haunches.

Brynhildr approached, and put her hand onto the dragon's forehead, beneath a trail of jagged horns.

"I will seal your power away. Learn to control it, and destroy our enemies."

"_Destroy our enemies," _rumbled the crowd.

With a finger, Byrnhildr drew the four glowing lines of Ladon. At that, the dragon began to glow, as though it was absorbing all light into itself. The light burst, into hundreds of shooting stars.

On the ground, naked as the day she was born, her hair singed away, Anissa laid curled into a ball. She was sleeping peacefully as a child.

* * *

The revelry would go on until the early hours of the morning. Some years past, the celebrations did not stop till the edges of the horizon turned blue, stars fading out of the sky.

The fire burned bright: they danced: wine, red and thick, ran free. Anissa, newly decked in tumbling trails of jewels span round in Tommen's arms: she shined.

Ryu sat back, cup squeezed between his thighs, watching it all distantly.

He might have gained Ladon's power, but he had never learnt to control it.

He had walked through the fire unscathed. Felt the flames, instead of burning him up, feeding into him. Making him fearless, powerful, invincible. They quenched the fear in his heart, hardening it into a invulnerable diamond.

Until he realised: he had no control over his actions.

He wrought destruction. Smashed the fire, injured five people. Four clansmen had to transform just to subdue him long enough for Bynhildr to seal him with her spell. He'd been no dragon; just a dangerous monster.

And even now, he had no more control over himself than he did when he was sixteen. The wyvern came upon him only when he was angry or upset, and left behind only devastation.

Another black mark against him.

"It's uncommon, but not unheard of," Brynhildr told him, all those years ago. "Some have always had trouble mastering their true forms. It'll come, with patience and training."

"And then what?" Ryu had said bitterly. "Let me guess. Although it's late coming, it'll be stronger than anybody else's?"

"No." Brynhildr raised her children as she'd governed her tribe: with blunt compassion. "Ryu, the reason you can't control your dragon is due to a weakness in your soul. But you'll overcome it. That's what weaknesses are for: to be overcome."

And yet, despite those harsh months of training in the wastes, he'd made no progress.

"And you must learn to overcome it," Brynhildr had said. "Otherwise, it might not be Rick or Rungnir, who can defend themselves that you hurt next time. If you can't control your anger, my love, you're going to kill someone you care about one day."

She'd been right, of course.

That's what truly scared Ryu. Sarah's Call came too early for her: her wyvern had always been weak. If Locke hadn't been there to stand in his way, he knew there would be no ifs or buts about it: he would have killed her.

His cup trembled in his hands: he couldn't seem to still them.

Better for him to stay away from this village, far enough away he could only hurt himself.

He needed to learn some self-control.

_To be continued. _


	4. The Uninvited Guest

**Part 4: The Uninvited Guest**

**By **_Nina Windia_

"A toast, to our guests— the princes of Dracon!"

There were some cheers, but this late into the evening they soon trailed into affirmative sounding mumbles. The servant girl hurried to refill cups. The long table of Acorn Hall was crammed with used plates and goblets. Some of the guests had already retired elsewhere, others were nodding off, or exchanging drunken words. Their host, an aristocrat called Maron was determined, however, not to let the princes go to bed.

Through the Wyndian province on their journey towards the capital, this was the sixth drinking party they'd attended.

Ryu sat, hunched over at the table, the room swimming in front of him.

"More wine, my prince?" the serving girl asked.

"Fill him up," he heard Sevvy answer for him. He was vaguely aware of his brother at his side, some Wyndian girl sat on his lap. He wasn't sure what he was doing to her, but it seemed to be working, if the giggles were anything to go by.

"That reminds me," Maron, lounged on his couch said— though no one could say what reminded him, "isn't there meant to be a third brother?"

"Our brother Locke's gone on ahead," Sevvy said. "He wanted to fly. We preferred to take the scenic route. And get the chance to experience the famous Maron's hosting, of course."

Maron laughed indulgently at this, but Ryu frowned into his cup.

Locke would have reached the capital days ago. In their dragon forms, they could traverse deserts and forests in a matter of hours. Of course, however, for Ryu this wasn't possible.

For reasons best known to himself, Sevvy decided to come with him.

For two weeks, they'd ridden south. Neither he or his younger brother had been before to Wyndia, a massive country, both fertile and rich, spanning from beneath the Cedarwoods and stretching all the way to the eastern ocean. Sevvy seemed to take it all in his stride, but frankly, Ryu found aspects of their culture baffling.

Servants, for one thing. He watched a pretty young thing with a wine pitcher shuffle past. He still couldn't grasp the concept. He understood they worked for gold, but why did they need it when he'd passed mile after mile or fruiting crops?

As he watched, the girl caught herself on a snag in the rug and almost fell, wine splashing over the top of the carrier.

"You clumsy girl! Idiot!" Manon berated her. "I didn't hire you just for your pretty tits. One more mistake, you're out."

"S-sorry sir," the girl stuttered, pink-faced and terrified. "I-it won't happen again."

Ryu frowned, deeply. Why did she take that from him? An insult like that asked for a punch in the face. But from the lack of response from the rest of the party, he inferred this behaviour was normal.

And the southerners called _them_ barbarians.

"Hey Ryu! You in there?" Ryu started up. Sevvy was waving a hand in front of his face, grinning. Said, more to the room than Ryu: "You sleep like that during the tournament, it's going to be a cinch to win me a Wyndian bride!" There was laughter and catcalls, and the redhead in his lap poked him in the chest.

"What do you propose to do about Lord Arryn of the Cedarwoods?" she said. "He's a master archer, you know. I heard he can hit a moving target from over a league away."

"I'll use him to wipe my nose with! I've won the gold shield thrice in the games we hold for Ladon, and I'm the fastest man in my tribe," Sevvy boasted. "In Dracon, we train in the arts of war everyday. These soft southern princes will run back to their mothers crying when I'm done with them."

"You might have more competition than you think, Prince Sevvy," said Maron. "I've heard King Philip has invited the merpeople."

"Hah? What'll they do? Hit me with their tails?"

There was laughter. Drinks were refilled.

"What about you, Prince Ryu?" Maron asked. Ryu raised his head. "What are your chances? Do you too hope to win the hand of our princess?"

Before he could speak, Sevvy answered for him. "My brother's won tournaments in Dauna and Auria. He's better than anyone I know with a sword, and his javelin never misses its mark." Ryu looked at him wryly.

"You flatter me, brother," he said.

"Not true. You're one of our best athletes. A ragtag bunch of nobles don't have a chance up against you. You'd have a good chance of winning— providing you could best me, of course."

Ryu stared at his cup. He was here because because the Queen commanded it. And, for his own reasons as well. He hadn't actually thought of winning before. "Well, I don't know," he said slowly. "I'll enjoy competing again, and testing my abilities. But I'm not in the market for a bride. I'd have to meet her first."

For some reason, Maron's company seemed to find this hilarious. "Meet her first!" someone said, and one of Maron's friends laughed so hard he fell down, and didn't get up again. The attention was turned to him: it took several to heave up and out of the room.

"It's a rare thing in this day and age, to meet a real life gentleman."

Ryu looked up. In front of him stood a shapely woman with a mane of jet black hair. Her eyes sparkled.

"I'm no gentleman," he said.

"Then it's the bachelor's life you're after?" She slid into the seat beside him. "Can't say I blame you. Marriage is a bore. Believe me, I've been there. Stay unattached. A single man can have…" as she spoke, she slid her hand up his thigh, "much… more fun."

"Who are you?" Ryu said.

"My name's Jocasta. I already know who you are. I don't think there's anyone a hundred leagues away who doesn't know the dragon princes are in town."

Ryu watched as she moved her hand higher up his leg with an amused, distant smile. "Jocasta, are you a whore?"

"Something of that sort." She stood, and lifted a leg over him, so she was sat on his lap, straddling his hips. "But don't worry. I don't charge for men as handsome as you." She cupped his cheek with her hand.

"Jocasta, I'm flattered, but I'm afraid I'm not interested."

"Don't be silly," she said, planting soft slick kisses down his neck. "You have a beautiful neck," she murmured. "So long, like a woman's…"

The drink moved around in him, tempting him to lead Jocasta back up to his room. But: "I'm sorry." He pulled away.

She looked disappointed.

"Don't bother yourself with him," Sevvy said. He was standing in the threshold, helping his tipsy giggling friend upstairs. "He got dumped."

"Oh!" She looked like she understood. She cupped her face between her hands. "Did she break your heart, sweet prince? Forget about her. She's not worth it." The words fell over him like a spell. "One night with me and you won't even remember her name."

Somehow, as though some magick had happened, the hall had cleared. Sevvy had vanished with his companion. The only person left was a man from Dauna, passed out with his head on the table.

She kissed him, with unbelievably soft lips. Tangled her fingers in his hair, sending tingles all down through his scalp. Suddenly, he kissed her back. More than passionately: furiously, like he would devour her whole.

"Oh! There's the dragon…" she murmured, rising up. Curled her fingers round handfuls of his hair, nails raking against his scalp. One hand reached down and started to unlace his breeches.

When as suddenly as it had come upon him, his passion ended. He put his hand over hers.

"No."

"No?" she asked, confused.

As gently as he could manage, he pushed her from him. Clutching hold of the wall for support, he started to climb the stairs to his room.

"Sorry," he remembered to say.

* * *

The day was bright and warm, a refreshing wind stirring through the trees, leaves rustling like tin foil. Ryu and Sevvy made their way through the forest together on horseback.

"Today feels like it's going to be a great day. Don't you think? It's like you can smell it in the air," Sevvy said, a great smile plastered across his face as he grinned up at the sunlight. Ryu couldn't help but smile a little, too.

"I can tell you had a good time last night," he said.

"Roxanne was her name. Rox-anne. She's a gift to god. Goes to show you can't believe what they say about Wyndian girls."

"You know, if you didn't have such an innocent face, people might start to realise what a lech you really are Sevvy," said Ryu.

"Hah! They can think what they want. Life's about having a good time. Don't let anyone convince you anything different." He beamed: with that boyish smile Ryu had seen girls forgive him anything.

Ryu looked up at the light filtering through the tree, warm on his face. He envied Sevvy's attitude on life. For him, living wasn't a lark: it was a hardship. He'd been happy, too of course, but he'd never been able to laugh off his troubles as Sevvy could.

"Anyway," Sevvy said, "you've no need for that serious look on your face. Who was that scrumptious companion I saw with you?"

"One of Manon's hired girls."

"And? Did you…?" he trailed off suggestively.

Ryu rolled his eyes. "Ladon be good, maybe one day you'll grow up enough to stop thinking about sex for one second."

"That'll be a no, then?"

"No."

"By Ladon's name, why not? She was gorgeous!"

"I wasn't interested. And besides…"

Sevvy's eyes widened opened in understanding. "Oh! I don't think she'd have minded. She looked like the type who wouldn't. Whores are pretty open-minded on these things."

_Even then, what would be the point? All she cared about was my name, my clan. Here, I'm just the same as at home: an interesting, fleeting, amusement. Like some new toy to be tossed away when the child gets bored. _

A tunnel of trees stretched out down in front of them. Ryu spurred on his horse and galloped down. The wind rushed through his hair and Sevvy was by his side, laughing.

"You challenging me?" he said.

"What would be the point? You're far too slow," he said, with a grin. He kicked his horse into a sprint, and they were flying down the tunnel, wind whipping around them as they raced.

* * *

The Wind road was packed with travellers, tourists and revellers on their way to the Princess's Tournament. The King's proclamation had blown across the land. Now, they came: men with dreams of gold came to bet their stakes on the winner; the betting men to make a mint. Market hawkers with carts of goods and pots and pans strapped to their back and swindlers with their skin creams made from mouse droppings. Troupes of dancers and acrobats, stopping to stretch and practice their routines by the side of the road, their bright leotards flashing as they cartwheeled and cavorted. Cartfuls of pretty girls dabbing on eye makeup come to practice the oldest profession in the world; noble girls with dreams of snaring the heart of a lord. The cream of the cream, the bottom of the barrel, they all made their way to Wyndia for the Games.

And not just humans, either. From the west they came: the grassrunners, from the east the wild nomadic woren tribesmen. From the oceans came the merpeople's cousins, the manillo. In the forest a mischievous sound of flutes and picollo pipes preceded the passage of the fairy court, naked and revelling, flowers in their hair, transporting the young Prince Avalon to the tournament.

All made their way to the capital, and the castle: The White Palace, glowing like a mirage on the plains. A white ship, adrift on fields of gold, waves of wheat bobbing on the breakers.

Wyndia was incredible, Ryu thought.

In the city, silver banners flew high. The markets teemed. All the inns were full and a new city of tents sprung up outside the city walls.

He had thought that Tunlun, a grassrunner town of several thousand edging Dracon's border was huge. How ignorant he was. The press was so great inside the city that he and Sevvy dismounted and led their horses by foot through the crush. His shoulders brushed others: people pushed past. The noise was enormous, his senses overwhelmed by the sheer number of voices that joined together, became a blur.

By his side, he saw Sevvy in no obvious discomfort, looking around himself in delight, eyes flashing.

Upon reaching the palace gates, the crowd thinned. In front of them, one of the Wyndian royal guard in their white tunics and greaves was speaking to a party.

"Lord Arryn, welcome to Wyndia. Please, come through. A servant will show you to the Water Gardens for refreshment."

The gate was rolled open and Lord Arryn and his men passed into the palace's grounds. Ryu and Sevvy approached the man.

"Are you here to compete in the tournament?" he said, eying Ryu's blue hair.

"We are," Sevvy said.

"Your invitation, please."

From his pouch, Ryu retrieved the rolled up letter and handed it to the man. The soldier checked the seal for authenticity and read through King Philip's letter. He put it back into Ryu's hand.

"Prince Ryu, Prince Sevothtarte, you are welcome. You can leave your horses with me. I'll call a lad to house them in our stables. Please follow Lord Arryn's party."

With a grumbling sound, the high gates rolled open.

"Cheers," said Sevvy. He strutted into the manicured gardens of he Palace. Ryu rolled his eyes and followed his brother, considering that they'd have to deflate Sevvy's head by the time the Games were through.

Their bags were taken from them, to be put in their rooms. A servant girl showed them through the palace up to the Water Gardens, where the other suitors would be waiting. The Palace was a maze of courtyards and cloisters, pillared chamber opening out into pillared chamber.

Up several flights of stairs, they entered a garden. For a moment, Ryu couldn't focus on anything; the assault of smells— jasmine, roses, lotus— was overpowering on his heightened senses. He felt Sevvy pause beside him, too.

"Don't worry, you'll get used to it," he heard his brother Locke say. Just as said, the feeling began to ebb. He saw Locke standing lazily with his back to a latticed gazebo with another man. He wished he didn't. Just looking at elder brother brought back that furious tightness in his chest.

"Hey Locke," Sevvy said. "You been here long?"

"A week. I know you were riding but you certainly took your time, didn't you? You're the last competitors to arrive."

"What's the point of visiting another country when you don't sightsee?" Sevvy asked.

Ryu resisted a comment. Mostly, they'd been sightseeing the inside of a wine bottle.

Then he focused on the man beside Locke. Though that wasn't a completely accurate description. His face was marked with paint, his pupils yellow slits. His straw-yellow hair ran almost to his waist. His tail, long and striped curled behind him. A weretiger. He felt Ryu's gaze and grinned at him, exposing several long incisors.

"You going to introduce your brothers to me, Locke?" he said.

Locke nodded boredly at them. "This is Ryu and Sevvy. Ryu, Sevvy, this is Raj Mensah Okeke."

"Good to meet ya," he said, still grinning widely. It wasn't entirely a nice smile.

"You're from one of the woren clans?" Ryu asked.

"The Jaka clan. My father's the chief," said Raj. His tail swept powerfully across the ground.

"You're here to win the princess, too?" Sevvy said, smiling back at him. Ryu recognised that smile; he was sizing up his rival.

"Course. The tribe elders want my brother as the next chief. But when I bring home the princess of Wyndia as my bride, that's gonna shake up their ideas, see? No way there's going to choose my brother over me then, right?" It was more of a statement than a question, and he went on: "Anyway, I reckon you dragon guys are going to be my real competition. Been talking to some of these other folks, and," he nodded his head back to the other parties in the garden, "buncha' saps, the lot of them. Some of 'em you'd think they still drunk their mother's milk."

"You'll have to duke it out with my brothers, I'm afraid," Locke said. Ryu glanced up at him; he was gazing up at the sky, arms folded. "Like I said, I already have a mate. I'm not interested in another bride." Ryu gritted his teeth, fingers clenched up so hard his nails dug into his palms.

"Have you seen Princess Nina yet?" he heard Sevvy ask.

"Nah," said Raj. "No one has. Gotta be a shy one, I reckon. But there's gonna be some shindig tonight now everyone's here. Mebbe they'll let us look at her then."

Eagerly Sevvy said, "I can't wait to see what she looks like."

"Rather like her sister, I'd imagine," Ryu pointed out. "They were twins, after all."

Sevvy demanded of Locke, "You met her once, right? When you went to Wyndia with Mother to talk about the alliance. What was she like?"

"I did. It was a long time ago though." Both Sevvy and Raja were paying very close attention now. Even Ryu glanced at his brother with reluctant curiosity.

"Bet she was a total babe," said Raja.

"She was eleven," said Locke.

"Oh."

He continued: "She was always chasing after her sister. Her nurse wanted us to be playmates, but I think she barely noticed I was there." He smiled wryly. "They made a big deal out of the visit, but Christina was more interesting to her than a dragon prince. I remember being annoyed at the time, but looking back on it, it was a good lesson for my ego."

"Was she shy?" said Sevvy.

"The opposite. I'm pretty sure she said whatever was on her mind. Unusual, for a Wyndian girl. Though she could be quiet too. A strange girl, I must admit." He looked out over the crowd in the garden, said: "A few moons ago, this was a city in mourning. I still can't figure it out… just what is King Philip thinking?"

There was something in that, Ryu thought. The garden was buzzing with energy. Princes and chiefs drunk with dukes, talking and laughing together. The day was hot, bright and golden. The buzz of insect wings and the gentle _ssh_ing of water.

Yet somewhere here in Wyndia, their beloved princess was buried.

_Christina, _he thought.

* * *

"Lord Ryu, your bath has been prepared."

"Thanks," said Ryu, coming into the tiled bathroom. A huge stone bath filled the space, decorated with mosiac mermaids. The walls were plated with metal, polished till they reflected your own face back. One of the servant girls was finishing pouring the final jar of steaming water into the bath. The room smelled sweet. On the top of the water floated orangeblossom and petals of lotus.

"Would you like us to stay and wash you?" the other girl said.

"That's not necessary," said Ryu.

The two girls exchanged a glance with one another. "Are you sure?" one said. "I have warm olive oil to sooth your muscles."

"My muscles will be fine. Please, I'd like to be alone."

A bit bemused, the girls left. Ryu stood alone by the bath, taking in a long breath. It really did smell wonderful, almost enough to make him forget how much he hated baths. Almost.

Ryu's reflection stared back at him from the plated wall. A serious face with angular cheekbones and a classical nose. His wild hair fell over his shoulders, dirty from the journey. Ryu knew who he was.

Most of the time, anyway. He looked at the man in the mirror. Watched, as the man unfastened his belt and scabbard, tossing them aside like a handful of dead leaves. His fingers; as they unlaced his boots. The slide of material as he pulls his tunic off his head. Standing in his undergarments, his fingers begin to tremble, fumbling the silver clasps of the dragon tear amulet around his neck. He breathes, deeply; the rise and fall of his chest, as though the removal of his clothes involve a kind of flying. Finally, he unwinds the the long strip of cloth binding his chest, slips out of his undergarments and stands, naked, not male, but not in his heart female; merely, Ryu.

* * *

Night, seeping up from the sky like ink into blotting paper.

In the hall, Ryu stood gazing out the window, drink in hand. Sevvy and Raj were either side of him, talking over him.

The hall was full. Through the crowd King Philip was sat at the high table. By his side was a handsome red haired woman, presumably Queen Rosetta. Around the room the competitors who'd come for the Games lounged on pillowed couches and were served food and wine. Others stood, and watched the dancing girls in their scraps of silk, a bright blur in the corner of Ryu's eye.

"Look at the body on that one!"

"Man I'd like to…"

Having found a common interest, Raj and Sevvy were quickly becoming friends. Ryu stared out the window, thinking.

Something hit him on the arm. "Hey. Ryu, wake up. You want to get some grub with me?" Ryu looked over at Sevvy and shook his head. "Suit yourself. Raj?"

"No ta. Just ate," said Raj.

Sevvy vanished into the crowd, leaving Raj with Ryu.

"So I was wonderin'" he said, "does it hurt to turn into a dragon?"

* * *

The table was laden down with steaming meats, baskets of fruit and bread. Sevvy went round, whistling to himself, piling up his plate into a small mountain.

"Did you not eat for a week or something?"

Sevvy turned round, chicken leg sticking out of his mouth. It was a young girl, no more than ten and two, smiling mischievously. She wore an elegant purple chiton, her blue hair done up prettily behind her head.

Sevvy tore a chunk of the chicken leg. "Well.. Let's just say, I've got the stomach of a dragon." And he reached across the table for a handful of clams.

"You think you're funny, don't you? I can tell," the girl said.

"Think? I know so."

"Oh really?" He looked over at her. She was still smiling, her eyes twinkling.

"Someone has to be, with siblings like mine." He piled on a spoon of potatoes. "Spent the last fortnight travelling with Mr Grim himself. Easier to make a mountain smile."

"How terrible for you."

Sevvy grinned at her. He couldn't tell if she was making fun of him or not, and he liked it. "What about you?" he asked. "Don't tell me you're here to compete for the princess too?"

She shook her head. "I'm looking for my sister."

His plate was full to bursting point. Time to go back and find Ryu and Raj. "Hope you find her then. Nice meeting you…?"

"Deis."

He stretched across for one last radish. "Nice meeting you Deis, My name's.." When he turned back, she'd vanished. Into thin air. "…Sevvy…?" he said.

* * *

It was like a ghost entered the room. A murmur moved like a breeze through the hall. Ryu looked away from the window and looked up.

"My bride," Raj said, with a note of pride, as though he'd won the tournament already.

Nina moved behind the high table and sat beside her father. She was wearing a silk dress the fell like water around her. Her golden hair was braided up behind her head and held in place by her silver crown.

She was the exact double of her sister. Frighteningly so, that a shiver of something like unease ran through Ryu. It was like seeing a corpse walk.

_To be continued. _


	5. Not by Daylight

**Chapter 5: Not by daylight**

**By **_Nina Windia _

It'd been some years ago now, Ryu remembered, that Christina had come to Dracon. She'd been on a goodwill tour following the second war with Nanai, giving gifts to orphans made by the conflict, and visiting the local temples. They hadn't expected the Wyndian princess to come to Dracon. They might be allies, but in the southern lords minds the the People of Dracon were too different: they were savage, backwards, animalistic— the massacre at Ludia, they said, had demonstrated that, quite aptly.

He'd admired the Wyndian girl who'd had the audacity to visit Dracon in the middle of a northern winter. A delicate pale-skinned girl she arrived shivering, wrapped in furs upon furs: yet she never complained.

"I wanted to see the winter lights," she said.

She stayed with them a fortnight, observing their culture, giving little presents to the children. She even visited their sites to Ladon, though she never made any offerings. She was dedicated to her own, nameless god. Sevvy teased her and she teased him back; she spoke with Locke about the political climate; lastly, she turned to Ryu.

Even though it was just a fortnight, Ryu remembered her well. She was one of those kind of people that gave of a kind of light; there was something special about her.

She came to him when he was sparring with Master Lebanon. Sarah was sat watching him; she came to watch him most days now, and Lebanon was always smacking him by the ear for smiling and waving at her when he was supposed to be concentrating.

"You stand around smiling like a fool with a real enemy," the blade of Lebanon's sword came up out of nowhere to his neck, "you end up dead."

Ryu pushed his sword away, laughing. "Alright, alright," he said, smiling over at Sarah. She snickered into her hands.

"And you over there—" Lebanon jabbed an irritated finger finger at Sarah, "go somewhere else. You're distracting my student."

Sarah ran off, laughing. It was only then that Ryu even noticed Christina, sat up on the wall watching him. Somehow, she'd managed to lose her princessguard, a train of shivering men in chain-mail who followed her everywhere.

"Don't mind me," she said. "I just wanted to see some Draconian swordsmanship in action."

They practised for another good half an hour. By the time they'd finished Ryu was soaked with sweat.

"Excellent," said Lebanon. "You did very well this time. If you can keep your eyes off certain young women, you might actually succeed me in skill one day."

Ryu turned a bit pink. "Hey, hey. I get," he said.

Christina slipped down the wall and approached them.

"What do you think Princess?" Lebanon asked her. "Is he as good as your kingsguard at home?"

"It's such a different style of fighting," she said. "Something about the footwork, I think… it's much faster."

"It's the armour, Princess. It means we have a much faster, more nimble style of swordsmanship."

"Isn't that much more dangerous?" she said.

"Certainly. But boys in Dracon are much more foolhardy than in Wyndia, after all."

"Don't you worry about getting hurt?" she asked Ryu. He grinned, sheathing his sword against his hip.

"Not really," he said.

"See what I mean?" said Lebanon. "Mind you, I was exactly the same. Boys in Dracon, we come into our power and think we're indestructible."

"And the girls?" she asked.

"Some of those as well! That girl earlier, Frode's daughter," he nudged his head to where Sarah had sat, "she's one of them."

Ryu noticed Christina looking at him curiously. He rubbed the bristly back of his hair.

"I'll see you tomorrow at dawn, Ryu," Lebanon said, sheathing his own blade. He began to pick up equipment from their training session, moving back to the citadel.

"I wanted to ask you something," Christina said. Ryu looked up at her. "Queen Brynhildr was telling me the winter lights are going to be beautiful tonight. She said you know the best places here to see them. I was wondering if…?"

"Sure, I'll take you," Ryu said. "It's dangerous to wander into the woods alone here if you don't know how to defend yourself. Do they really not even teach girls to use a bow in Wyndia?"

She smiled. It was a gentle smile, like honey. "Wyndia is… very different from Dracon. Especially for girls. There's a lot we can't get away with."

"Really?" Contemplatively, he leant down to unlace his boots. "I thought it was bad enough, here. I don't see why men and women have to act certain ways and do certain things in the first place."

"That's an interesting thought. I've never really considered it, to be honest. Don't you think it would look funny though, if you came out one day wearing a dress?"

He straighted out. He was smiling a crooked, distant, sad kind of smile. "Maybe," he agreed.

Night. Bright, cold, stars stared down at them like spears. They left the horses, and waded through the calf-deep snow, light as sugar and cold as ice.

They made their way upwards, through the darkness of the pine trees, stars peeking through the thick foliage. In the silent darkness, only the hoot of an owl and the crunch of snow. Ryu took Christina's arm to stop her losing her way in the dark.

"Are you cold?" he asked.

"I'm fine," she said, though even in her furs he could feel her shivering.

"It's just a little further," he told her.

They continued climbing. The branches broke apart over them like an overcast sky. Above them, the winter lights waved like curtains of phosphoresce in the air.

"Amazing," Christina breathed.

They climbed to the top of the hill, and there Ryu pulled off his fur lined cloak and spread it overt he snow. They sat together, leaning against a smooth rock.

"I come here most nights," he told her. "It's the best spot for leagues around."

She shuffled in beside him to get comfortable. "Always on your own?" she asked.

"Sometimes." He paused. "Or else I come with Sarah."

"That girl from earlier?"

"Yeah."

They sat, watching the lights move in the sky. For Ryu, as always, it felt as though the tribulations of the day were lifted from him, thrown high into the sky. His mind blissfully blank, he glanced over at his companion. She watching the lights, utterly enraptured. From her mouth she exhaled a breathful of air like spun sugar.

"You should come to Wyndia one day," she said, and she smiled at him. "I want you to meet my sister Nina. I know you'd get on well."

"Why'd you say that?"

"Well.." She paused, pursing her lips. "She loves things like this. For example, she's always sneaking out onto the kitchen roofs, just to watch the stars. My parents are always angry at her."

"For watching the stars?" Ryu was baffled.

"As I said, it's different in Wyndia. We can't even leave the palace without the guard. "

Ryu couldn't help but wonder: in that case, what was she doing alone here, with him?

Their eyes met, and Christina smiled a wry, knowing smile. They both laughed; neither really knew why.

Christina laid back, the lights flickering in her eyes.

"I love the dark," she said, tossing the words like a handful of stones into the night. She pulled her knees up, slinging her arms around them. "I feel like you can only be really honest in the dark. Do you know what I mean?" She turned her bright eyes on Ryu, but it didn't seem like like she was really asking a question.

"For example, my sister and I…" she said, "we used to be really close. And at night, we'd leave the curtains open, and the moonlight would stream in through the window, and we'd have these amazing conversations. We'd talk for hours, about amazing, incredible things. It made me so happy."

"Used to?" Ryu asked.

Christina nodded. She leant forward, her forehead touching her knees. Her words seemed to shrink as she spoke. "It's as though I don't know her any more. Like she's become a stranger, or I have. It makes me feel awful."

"That's what happens with siblings," said Ryu. "It's only natural. You've nothing to feel guilty about." As he spoke, he thought of his own siblings; Sevvy, who drove him mad, and Locke, always, always patronising. _Stop dressing like a boy Ryu. You're meant to be an adult; playing pretend is for children. _"They don't understand me, either," he said, teeth on edge.

"I know it's natural to grow apart, but.. I don't know, it's just not fair. It's lonesome." She stared out into the dark. In the moonlight, her face gleamed like an egg. She turned to Ryu with an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry. These are my problems. I didn't mean to burden you with them."

Ryu shook his head. "Don't worry."

"What about you then?" she was smiling again, the quirk of her lips almost sly.

"Me?"

"You. Do you have someone you're close to like that? Who you can tell anything to?"

Ryu rubbed his cheek with his hand. "Well…"

"Maybe Sarah?" she suggested.

"She's just a friend," Ryu said quickly.

Christina was smiling widely. "I never said she wasn't."

"Ah." He realised his mistake.

"How adorable. You should blush more often. It's very becoming," Christina said. She was laughing at him.

"You're teasing me," he accused her.

Playfully, she cupped her cold hand round Ryu's pink cheek. "On the contrary, I'm _always_ sincere. You should ask my sister- 'Would you stop being so bloody pious for one second, Christina?!'"— and then, "Goodness me, you're warm." She cupped her other hand to his face. "I bet you're not cold at all, are you?"

"Nope."

She held onto him for a few seconds longer. "I'm sorry. I'm not usually like this. Not by daylight, anyway." Tenderly, as though she was releasing a baby bird, she let go of him.

"You're right," Ryu said. The words left him fast; they flew from his lips on wings. "She means everything to me. No one has ever known me like she does. She understands me. It's like I _am_ her. When I'm with her I feel— I feel—"

"Eternal?" Christina said.

"Eternal. Yes." The word left him in a kind of relieved sigh. He asked, "How did you know?"

"I felt the same way, with my sister," Christina said quietly. They were both silent. What a relief it was, Ryu thought, just to say the words out loud.

"Have you told her yet?" Christina asked. Ryu shook his head. "Well, why not?" she demanded.

"It's complicated. More so than you know."

"It doesn't sound that complicated to me. You love her. It sounds like she loves you. What are you waiting for, spring?"

"I don't know…"

Quite suddenly, she gripped his hand. Tightly.

"Intimacy doesn't last forever," she said. Her eyes were bright, furious even, blazing under the aurora. "You need to grip it with both hands," she squeezed him tighter still, "otherwise, it's going to get away."

* * *

With a roar of applause, the tournament began. Fields had been cleared to make way for the tournament grounds, stands had been erected, lines for the coming race marked out. The sea of tents beside the city had become a city of its own.

It was high noon, the sun a blazing circle in the centre of the sky.

Ryu stood with the other competitors, amerced in the spectacle. He watched, as King Philip was handed a knife and sacrificed the two bejewelled and gaudily decked bulls. He slit their throats, and the hot blood spilt down onto alter.

Ryu glanced over at the man he found himself beside; he was tall as a tree with skin the colour of rich earth. "Which god is he making the dedication to?" he asked.

"Myria." The man smiled down at him. "The King's no believer himself; it's a popularity stunt. She was her Highness Princess Christina's god. The people have a fondness for Her, you see."

"Myria." He tasted the name on his tongue. "I haven't heard that name before."

"I've been told her believers don't call her by name. Of anything else about her I know very little, I'm afraid. In the Cedarwoods we keep the old gods."

Ryu offered his hand to him. "Arryn," the man said.

The Gameskeeper stood from the wooden stands to announce the order the events. The were to be a number of different events spanning the fortnight, the winners of which would take part in the final event. Today would be the foot-race.

Ryu's eyes slid away from the Gameskeeper across the stands to the royal party. Princess Nina was sat there with them. She was so much like her sister it was unnerving to look at her, yet he couldn't seem to draw away. She turned her head his way and for a moment he thought that she would catch his eye. But she looked past him, away, up into the sky.

When Ryu looked back, he saw Philip approaching them. In his finery, he made a fine figure, marred by the fact his weight gave his stride somewhat of a waddle. The captain of his kingsguard in his gold glinting armour strode by his side.

He kept it to the point. "Men," he said. "Good luck."

He saw Locke step forward with several others to try to converse with Philip, but Ryu stayed where he was. A woman who could be no one other than Nina's mother leaned over to speak with her. Nina made no reply. She gazed out: Ryu wondered what she was seeing.

* * *

He did up his sandals tightly, scuffing them against the chalky ground to check their tightness. He straightened up. By his side, Sevvy was peeling off his tunic, stretching. By the track, crowds over a thousand were assembled.

Raj ambled over towards them. He wasn't dressed for the race.

"You're not competing?" Sevvy asked. Ryu thought he sounded disappointed.

"Do I look like a fast runner to you?"

Ryu looked him up and down; his broad muscular body and arms.

"Exactly," he said. "I'll leave you good lads to it. Me? I'm saving myself for the boxing."

The day was hot and clear. The great blue sky stretched out endlessly, tiny snail trails of clouds creeping listlessly in the blue.

The competitors for the first heat were called. Sevvy was to take part, as well as Lord Arryn, some other well-born noble from Wyndia, the prince of Hometown and the son of of some chief in some town past Shyde.

Sevvy struck Ryu playfully. "Let me show you how it's done," he said.

He watched his brother stride over to the track. The competitors took their marks. The cheering had become ferocious, particular from the parties who'd come to support their lords.

The Gameskeeper blew his whistle, and Ryu saw his brother explode off the mark like wildfire. As Ryu knew he would, he left his competitors behind in the dust. He was a blur in blue, and seconds later gave one final leap across the finish line. "Yahoo!" he called.

As the crowd applauded Sevvy, the rest of the competitors crossed the finish line: none of them had had any hope of passing Sevvy.

"Your brother really is something," said Raj.

"He's a nimble little bastard, that's what he is," Ryu said.

The winner from the next heat was some Daunish chieftain's son, next a boy from Tunlun. A hawk whirled up overhead. Raj was sweating beside him, but seemed not to want to lose face by seeking shelter. Ryu started when the next list of names were called.

"I thought Locke said he wasn't going to compete," Raj said, conversationally. He looked startled when Ryu leapt up.

Furiously, Ryu strode across the sand to where Locke sat laughing with a Wyndian soldier, doing up his sandals.

"Just what do you think you're doing?" he demanded.

Locke looked up as though he were ever so politely surprised. Ryu blazed into his eyes. That god awful scar.

"You wanted something, Ryu?" he said, as though he were speaking to a child.

"I asked you what you think you're doing."

"What does it look like? I'm getting ready for the race." Again, in that light civilised tone Ryu detested. That was always Locke's way: always pretending to be the calm one. So piously righteous.

"You said you weren't looking for another bride."

"Is that what that mad face is about?" He shook his head, passing an amused smile to the Wyndian, who seemed nonplussed by the whole confrontation. "Don't worry your pretty little head Ryu. Sarah is my only bride. I've never shame her like that. I'm not competing to win: I just want to test my skill against others."

So that was it.

_Even after all this time, he still refuses to let me win. Taking my dignity wasn't enough for him. _

He tore himself away. "Fine," he spat.

He didn't want to win— he just wanted Ryu to lose. Ryu glimpsed it all, in the cracks between his smug smile. The fire was in his veins. Was it possible to hate a man as much as he hated his brother?

But Ryu didn't intend to lose again. _Not to him. _

* * *

Ryu crouched on the starting line. He looked to his side: Prince Avalon was competing in this race, along with some men and boys he didn't recognise. Second to the end, Locke was taking his mark.

The adrenaline ran like ether through his body. The crowd, the excitement, the competition: he'd forgotten how he'd loved them. His mind went back to the year he'd won the gold shield at the solstice games. He'd known true happiness that day. His javelin hit every mark as though the god had inspired it. Brynhildr presented him with the shield, and Sarah threw herself into his arms. "Kiss her!" the crowd had cried. He kissed her. The people cheered.

Ryu's jaw hardened as he looked across the line at Locke.

_You took everything I ever cared about away from me, brother, and you pretend you've done nothing wrong. I can't forgive you._

The Gameskeeper asked them to take their marks. "Start!" he said. Ryu ran.

Feet pounding on the chalky ground, Ryu looked to his side. He'd overtaken several already, though Locke and some other golden haired boy were still ahead of him. His calves burning, he pushed himself further, till he was square with the boy. He pushed past him, chasing down his brother.

_I won't let him beat me. I can't._

Locke was flying fast, mouth set in determination. When he saw Ryu, coming level against him, his head flitted towards him. His thick eyebrows furrowed.

_You should look concerned. I'm going to leave you in my dust. _

His pushed himself even further, his muscles screaming. Locke responded, matching his pace. It was him and Locke now, the others long forgotten.

"Just give up," Ryu called. Again, Locke flicked his eyes at him, condescending irritation, as though Ryu was a child trying to join in a grown ups' game.

"Slow down, little sister. You'll hurt yourself," he said.

_Sister! _

A low, low blow.

Once, Ryu might have stumbled. Now, anger and adrenaline mixed together into something potent. He forgot the pain of his muscles: he burst forward, overtaking Locke, flying over the finish line.

The crowd in the stands cheered. Raj was by his side, clapping him on his arm. Jubilation danced in his veins. Locke was standing some ways away, catching his breath. Ryu caught his eye, and moving away from Raj he passed him by. As he did so, he touched his shoulder. Said quietly, "Call me sister again, I'll kill you."

* * *

In the final race, Ryu came third. Second was Jaden, Hometown's prince. In first place was his brother Sevvy. Ryu had expected no different: after all, Sevvy had been beating him in foot-races since the boy was twelve years old.

Seated in the stands, Ryu watched as Sevvy approached the stage where Philip stood with the Gameskeeper and the princess. He saw as Sevvy spoke to the King, though he couldn't hear the words. He was presented with a gold inlain chest, and knelt, as Nina moved to lay a crown of laurels on his head. As she did so, Ryu wasn't sure but he thought he saw the princess's lips move. He saw Sevvy smile.

Later, after all the furor had died down and they sat in the hall drinking and celebrating, he remembered to ask her what she'd said.

"Oh!" said Sevvy. He grinned wryly. "She told me I was very quick. And when I thanked her, she said, 'If you're going to be my husband, I hope you don't finish that fast in bed.' Man, I like her already!"

_To be continued. _

* * *

**A/N- As I was writing this chapter, it struck me- nuts, I was going to actually have to write a sporting event. I typed into google 'how to write a sporting event' and 'how to write a race.' I didn't find much. So I hope the race scene isn't too pants. I think I'm better at writing conversation or introspective scenes rather than ones with action in them.**

**Oh! And thank you to my reviewers for dropping me a comment. ^^ I appreciate it.**

**Next chapter, Nina and Ryu meet! **


	6. Girls don't fight with swords

**Part 6: Girls don't fight with swords**

**By **_Nina Windia_

From outside the city came mouthwatering smells; the hawk swept down low, over the wagons of the vendors, men hunched over firepits with haunches of sizzling meat. He passed over a woman with a basketful of ripe oranges, a snatch of her shrill call "—juiciest oranges, this side of Shyde—" and then he'd left her behind, his beady eyes fixed on tender leg of lamb in a child's hands. He swooped, and with his talons tore the meat out of her hands. She screamed, and the hawk took back to the clouds with his prize.

There were thousands of people gathered on the plains. He soared over the clamour by the betting wagons, men with fists full of ticket stubs calling out the name of their favoured victor. "Prince Avalon of the Faeries!" "Lord Arryn!" "Prince Ryu to champion the swords contest!" "His brother, Prince Locke!" Past the hubub, he flew above the chatter in the stands, seats designated for highborn families and standing space for the rest. The whispers and gossip of the royal party, rising on the updraft. The glint of King Philip's crown that did nothing to disguise the bald patch, large as an eagle's egg. His daughter and her golden tresses, looking out disinterestedly.

The _shh-ing_ and clang of metal. In the middle of the stands on the dusty ground, two men were dueling, swords in hand. The hawk circled above them: he felt a strange smell from them. Though they had the bodies of men, they had the scent of another creature entirely.

* * *

_I won't let you beat me, _Ryu thought.

**Shh-ing! **

Ryu's sword clashed off his brother's. He recovered quickly, with the nimble footwork he'd shown Christina so many years ago. When Locke slashed at him, he simply stepped back, out of the way, and swept in again, tight and fast, blade crashing against his brother's.

Locke's face was tight, eyebrows anchored together, sweat gleaming on his temple. His scar was stretched tight, shiny as a blister.

This was familiar dance: they'd gone through the steps so many times, for so many years before.

* * *

_The smell of straw and sweat in the yard. Lebanon's puzzled face, as Ryu, ten years old exclaimed, "You heard me. I want you to teach me how to fight!"_

"_But…" Lebanon had said, looking down at his little princess. Though, it was true, he did not have to look down far now. _

"_Locke learnt to wield a sword when he was eight years old. And Sevvy's only six and he's got his practice sword already. So why not me?" Ryu demanded. His voice was high, but clear, like the carrying note of a flute._

"_But Princess, you're…" _

_A girl, he meant to say. But it was true that Ryu didn't look much like a girl. For years, she'd dressed in boys clothes. She was a changling child, her tunic scuffed and dirty, her bare knees bruised. Her hair, cropped herself, was short and ragged. Her mouth was set in a firm frown and her eyes— there was something wrong about those eyes on a girl's body. They were fierce, not even a boy's. They were a man's. _

_Strange to admit, but Lebanon couldn't refuse those eyes._

_Sliding his sword out of the sheaf, he tossed it to Ryu. She caught it deftly by the handle. Lebanon watched as the girl felt the weight of it, moved it around in her hand._

"_How does it feel?" said Lebanon. _

_She heaved it up. Strange, how it suited her. "It's heavy… but it feels good." The frown was gone. She was smiling, watching how the blade reflected the light._

"_It would be heavy. It's my sword. I'll get the forge to make one suited for your hand."_

_The man was gone. A child gaped at him. "Really? You're not kidding?" she said._

"_It'll still feel heavy though, especially if you're used to playing with sticks. We need to build your strength up. You'll need to meet with me every morning, before dawn, if you want to be any good."_

_Ryu nodded furiously. "Of course. And I'll polish my sword, every day."_

"_Well of course you will. When you are fully trained, your sword will be part of your body. And a warrior must take care of his whole body if he's ready to fight, Prince Ryu." _

_Ryu's eyes widened. "Prince…" he said. _

_Lebanon put his hand on Ryu's shoulder. "Girls don't fight with swords." _

_Ryu saw what Lebanon was offering him, and slowly, he nodded. He accepted it inside himself like a gift. "Girls don't fight with swords," he repeated. _

* * *

**Girls don't fight with swords. **

Ryu sliced through Locke's defenses, a human blade in action. Locke grunted in suprise and fell back, barely scraping out of harms way. Seeing Locke going into the defense, the crowd was going wild.

Ryu saw nothing of it, only his brother, his sword.

Locke's mouth was open. He was panting. Ryu should have felt tired, but as soon as he began to feel fatigued, one of his brother's old taunts would ring inside his head. The ether would be in his veins and he'd spring, again, like a cobra, sword flashing.

* * *

"_Freyjr, what do you think you're doing?" _

_Locke's voice went through Ryu like a ghost. He started, and his blade slipped. Lebanon's sword was pointing at his chest. _

"_Dead," he said. "What have I told you about losing focus? The moment you stop paying attention—"_

"_Lebanon, what is this?" Locke, sixteen and stocky strode between them. Lebanon did not show his impatience._

"_Teaching young Ryu the art of the sword, as I did with you Prince Locke," he said. _

"_Her name is Freyjr," he said, "and she doesn't need to learn to fight."_

_Ryu stood his ground. "My name is _**Ryu**_," he said. "And I need to learn to protect myself."_

_Ryu expected Locke to get mad, as he had the other times. Instead, he rolled his eyes, and as though Ryu was a child, ruffled his hair. Somehow, it was almost worse. "Freyjr, you've got me to protect you. You don't need to go through with all this nonsense." To Lebanon he said, with the threat of warning: "I hope you've told the Queen what you've been teaching Ryu?"_

"_Mother knows," said Ryu defensively. "And she said she doesn't mind. Not if I dress like a boy neither."_

"_She humours Freyjr," Locke said to Lebanon, eliminating Ryu from the conversation. Lebanon said nothing, though his mouth was set in a firm line._

_And Ryu felt like he was floating. The same feeling he'd had so often as of late. That he was lost somewhere, unattached to anything, drifting away. _

_Was everyone really just humouring him? He didn't ask to be born a girl. Why couldn't he be a boy? For years, when he was small, he thought he was a boy. It wasn't until later he learnt the difference. Ryu thought— it just wasn't fair. _

_It wasn't fair._

_Like that, the feeling changed. No longer was he weightless. Instead, he was angry._

"_I'll fight you," he said._

"_Excuse me?" said Locke._

"_I'll show you. I should be the one protecting_ you_." _

"_Don't be idiotic." Locke refused to take him seriously. So, Ryu hit him with his sword. _

_Locke rubbed his arm where Ryu had hit him with the flat._

"_Fight me," Ryu said again. _

_Lebanon stepped forward. "I think that's enough for one day. If we—"_

_Locke stepped forward. "No," he said. He pulled his sword from its sheath. "I've had enough of this. I'm going to knock this rubbish out of your head, once and for all." _

_He lunged forward with the blade, and was surprised when Ryu, small and nimble, parried out of the way. Several weeks of training had already made their mark. When he went on the attack again, his brother blocked all his blows. _

_And for the very first time Ryu felt it: the ecstasy of the fight, the adrenaline lighting up his whole body like a flame. He went on the attack, and his heart sung at the look of shock on Locke's face as he pushed through, their metal clashing inches before his brother's face._

The crowd in Wyndia was cheering. Their blades met, again, Ryu danced out of the way: Locke's sword struck the sand. Ryu moved in— just in time, Locke caught it with the tip of his blade.

"Close, but not close enough," he said, before he struck.

_However, for all Ryu's natural finesse, his brother was older, bigger, and better trained. Over the shock, Locke came blazing back into the fight. Like the increasing tempo of a drum their swords clashed again, again. Ryu stumbled back, breathing heavily, barely managing to fend off the blows. _

But Ryu was older now, almost as big and far more nimble. Their swords scraped together, Ryu forcing it down to the ground, swooping in quick for a thrust to his exposed chest. Only just in time did he move away.

_Locke forced him back, all the way back to the wall of the citadel, pinning him there. Ryu was so exhausted it took nothing to knock the blade from his hand. It went flying, spinning into the dust. _

"_What was it Lebanon said? Right. 'Dead.''" His voice was triumphant. He was unnerved when he looked down, and saw Ryu's eyes. He didn't look defeated: they were fierce, cold, an animal's._

"Hah!" The movement was too quick: Locke lost his balance. And in that second, Ryu was in there fast. He thrust in, his sharpened blade against his chest, resting against his vital organs. There, he stopped.

"Dead," he said.

The crowd exploded into applause. Someone had run over, and had him by the shoulder, congratulating him, but Ryu wasn't paying attention. His eyes were fixed on his brother's. He noticed, he'd cut him on his arm, under the shoulder, and blood was trickling down. But if Locke had noticed, he didn't show it. He gave Ryu a curt nod, and walked away.

Ryu was flying high on the wings of victory as he was led toward the royal family. He stepped up onto the stage with buoyant steps and approached Philip, who congratulated him. He waved his daughter forward. "Nina."

She came forward, a fey creature in a dress like a gentle stream, her golden hair pinned into a circlet on her head. She was holding a crown made of laurel leaves in her hands. Ryu knelt, and she came closer. The scent of her perfume encased him: jasmine.

Perhaps this tournament would change everything, Ryu thought. He'd regain his dignity that was stolen from him by Locke. He'd beat him at every single event. As Nina laid the crown onto his head, he decided he would take her home as a prize. With a princess by his side, who would ever dare say he wasn't a man?

* * *

In the hall, as the musicians broke into a rendition of The Lion and the Maiden, Sevvy was trying out his best moves. A slinky Wyndian girl, one of the staff leant against an alcove in the wall, coyly resisting his advances as he edged in closed.

"Really, you're too much!" she giggled.

"Really? There's much more to see." He slid in beside her, hand on her shoulder. "Wanna get out of here and come back to my room?"

"Sevvy I'd love to… I really can't though."

"You're breaking my heart, darling."

"You'll get me into trouble! I'm meant to be attending on Lady Eurydyke."

"The Queen?"

"Don't you know anything?" Her voice dropped lower. "Lady Eurydyke is the King's mistress. She's a real tyrant. And she'll want to go to bed soon."

"So, put her to bed… and then you can put me to bed, too."

"Well…"

"Eumeme! What do you think you're doing?"

"Oh, nuts!"

It took only that. Like a shellfish, the girl darted away and vanished into the crowd. Sevvy looked round for the speaker, though he couldn't seem to find her. Instead, he recognised the blue haired little girl he'd met at the feast.

"Hey," he said, feeling disappointed.

"Your date ditch you?" she said.

"Seems that way," he sighed.

"Shame."

"Hey," he said, remembering, "did you ever find your sister?"

"Oh yes." She smiled.

* * *

Ryu couldn't for the life of him find a single quiet place to train. It was approaching midnight, yet there were still a dozen people on the track. He wandered the palace aimlessly, too wound up and energised to go to bed. He could hear the sounds of the festivities from the hall, cheers and drinking songs. No doubt Sevvy was there.

His mind as busy as the wings of a flock of cicadas, he didn't notice where he was going till he felt the cool night air. Ryu looked about. He was in the Water Gardens.

The garden lay in darkness, lit only by a pale moonlight. He heard the sound of water and the creaking of the windmills.

_A good a place as any. _

There was no guard on station, and Ryu began to look for a good place to train. The gleam of white marble in the moonlight caught his eye: it was a whimsical spiral staircase, rising to what must be an observation platform. Out of curiosity, Ryu started to climb the stairs. They went up what must be several stories, and opened out onto a round platform bordered by a railing. Ryu could see why— he was high above the city. This must be the highest part of the palace: he could see the lights in the towers, and the stained glass of the hall, movement leaping about inside.

He stepped forward to approach the railing, and then stopped. His body froze, completely motionless.

He wasn't alone. There was a young woman balancing precariously on the railing, about to jump. It was Princess Nina.

Ryu's instinct kicked in. Without making a conscious decision, he darted up, silent as a panther and wrapped his hands around her waist. He fell back, taking her down with him. The impact, as he hit the floor.

She struggled against him almost immediately. The girl in his arms was soft and weak as a kitten.

"Don't worry. I've got you," he said.

The second unexpected moment of the night occurred: the princess bit him. Out of shock he let go of her, his hand throbbing. She darted away from him, throwing herself back against the railing, which clashed. Her eyes were bright and furious, like an animal's.

Ryu found himself at a loss for words. Before he could form them into coherent sentences, they slipped out through his fingers like sand.

"What," she said, "do you think you're doing?"

"You… you were going to jump," the words left him lamely.

"Idiot," she hissed.

"What?" he said.

"I wasn't going to jump."

"But you—"

Nina stood. Ryu stopped. She'd spread her wings wide. They were white, feathery and huge. How had he not noticed them before? "Even," she said, "even if I did, I wouldn't fall. Heights can't hurt a Wyndian. Didn't you know that?"

Of course he did. He just hadn't thought. He'd acted on instinct.

But, all the same—

"What were you doing up there? You looked like… as though you were…"

In the moonlight, she'd looked translucent. So fragile looking, as though she might blow away. Her eyes: he still could still see them now. So many things at once: fierce and solemn and beneath that, terribly sad.

"As though I was what?" Nina asked. She looked straight at him: her eyes pierced him, dared him to answer. All his words died in his mouth.

The fierceness of her eyes faded. She seemed quietly satisfied by something. She turned now, pulling up the hem of her chiton, and stepped up onto the railing.

Ryu stayed as quiet as though he were under a spell. She clambered up, and with amazing balance stood on the railing, no more than an inch wide. Then, slowly, she began to lean up onto the balls of her feet. Further, until she was standing on the very tips of her toes above the abyss.

Ryu couldn't breathe. He was afraid to speak: what if she fell?

Her mouth was set in a hard line. She gazed far into the distance. She looked as though she was in pain.

The moment stretched on for what felt an eternity.

Ryu stepped forward. "Princess, why are you doing this?"

She was quiet for so long Ryu didn't expect to get a reply. Should he fetch one of the guard? There had to be something wrong with the girl.

At last she said: "Tell me."

"Princess?"

"What must it be like?" she let the words hang there. She stretched further, as if that were even possible, balancing on nothing. "To stand on the very edge and prepare to jump. To extinguish your life like a candle, with your own hands. To fall… sometimes I come up here to think about it. To wonder what it must be like."

He took another step forward. His heart was beating fast.

She stretched out her wings. Then, she closed her eyes and fell forward.

"Nina!"

He ran to the railing. It clashed loudly. She saw Nina swooping off over the city, caught up the updraft.

His hands were sweating.

* * *

When Ryu returned to their rooms, Sevvy and Raj had already come back from the hall. They sat by the fire, drunk and merry.

Ryu threw his cloak over the couch.

"Ryu! Where you been?" Sevvy said.

"Training," he said.

"Ryu, friend. Come join us!" said Raj.

He kicked off his boots. "I don't feel like it." He slammed his bedroom door behind him.

He fell down on the bed, exhausted. Even then, he could still see her: that girl, standing on the edge, ready to jump.

The image was burnt into his eyes.

* * *

_To be continued. _

* * *

**A/N-** Lol at me trying to write a sword fight. Oh well_. _Please drop me a comment if you've got time and let me know what you think; who your favorite characters are, what your favourite flavour of juice is, whatever you'd like. Next chapter will be up soon.


	7. Only in Darkness

**Part 7: Only in Darkness**

**By **_Nina Windia_

"What do you mean you're not competing?"

The morning light was warm and honeycomb, with the promise of heat already. Ryu and Sevvy were having breakfast in the Water Gardens. In the gazebo, they sat on low couches, and a girl served them warm rolls and honey with wine.

"I'm a mediocre archer at best, you know that," said Ryu.

"But you were all fired up about it just yesterday," said Sevvy. He tore a chunk out of his roll, looking puzzled.

"Well, I don't feel like it anymore."

Sevvy simply shook his head. "I can't keep up with your moods," he said.

"I've already won my garland. Whatever happens, I'm in the finals anyway."

"But if you win more than one event, you can eliminate someone else. One more shot at the Princess, right?"

Ryu went silent. Sevvy looked at his brother's face as he ate his breakfast stonily, and sighed.

"These rolls are great," he said.

_Another shot at the princess._ The words caught and rebounded in Ryu's head. What? Like she was a prize to be won? Again the image stirred inside his mind and took shape: the princess toppling before some kind of despair.

And then there was he— winning to take her back as his bride, not because he loved her, or even desired her. To get back at his brother.

I'm a man, he'd declared. But what kind of man was he, really?

Out loud, he asked, "How did Christina die?"

Sevvy stopped, roll jammed half way in his mouth. "Wherth dith thath come fthrom?" he said.

"Nobody here talks about her anymore, but it wasn't that long ago. What happened to her? Was it the flux?"

Sevvy swallowed down the last of his roll and beat his breast. He shook his head. "To be honest, I don't know either. I never asked."

It could only have been six months ago, Ryu thought. How must her sister be feeling now?

Sevvy cleared his throat. Ryu started up. For once, Sevvy looked uneasy. He folded the napkin on his plate absently, as though he wasn't aware he was doing it. "Ryu…" he said, "do you remember Astrid?"

Astrid, their sister. Locke's elder by a year.

Ryu's voice was quieter, too. "Only a little. I was six when it happened, so I should remember more. But to tell the truth, I can't even remember what she looked like. I… liked the fabric of her dresses. Her hair smelled nice."

Sevvy said, "Goddamn Ludians. Those monsters."

Even the golden light seemed to dim. They sat silently.

Ryu said, quietly, as though confessing a secret: "Locke still has her portrait in his room."

Sevvy nodded. "I saw it. When I snuck in to borrow his sword last year."

It was as though they'd summoned him. Locke strode up the steps of the gazebo. "I've found you a spare bow, Sevvy. It's not great, though. I told you not to stake yours up against that grassrunner. Arryn says he's a known conman."

He found his brothers, gone quickly silent.

Both of them knew better than to speak of Astrid to Locke.

* * *

The archery contest ended as everyone expected, with Arryn taking the third laurel crown. Though he'd heard of Arryn's renown, it was amazing too see him in action. The man's eyesight was incredible. He could spot details in the distance that were only a blur to Ryu, and he smashed the competition. His arrow hit the bullseye, every time.

The crowd dispersed, and Ryu began to wander. Thumbs hooked round his belt, he passed by the betting caravan, where several men called out to him. They seemed surprised to see him, and called out jovially, "Hey Ryu, we're rooting for you!", "Go get 'em!", "You better not lose, Prince. I've got all my savings riding on you."

Ryu nodded at them, and passed them by.

Applause rolled like waves from the open air amphitheatre, and curiously Ryu lingered.

On the stage, an actress laid in the pretence of death, a shroud covering over her. A man, knelt by her side cried aloud: "Fie, fate! How can I forgive you? You have stolen from me my only treasure. My sister, my sweet dove. Only your under your wings could I find shelter. You were my light.

"How can I live on now that light is gone?"

Ryu pressed on. He entered the city, and when the guardsman on the gate offered him an escort back to the Palace, he declined.

"Be careful then, please, my Lord. There a pickpockets aplenty come for the games, and more shady types as well. If you insist on going, stay away from the northern sprawl."

He explored the bazaar, mesmerised by the bright colours of the carpets, silks and weaves, though indignant when the sellers thrust them into his face. He bought a ruby red apple from a vendor, and bouncing it up and down in his hand tore a bite from it.

From there he moved into the crowded city plaza, and sat by a fountain of flying fish and ate the apple down to the core. In front of him, children were running around playing tag and shrieking with laughter. Few people looked to him, but when they did they admired his fine clothes with a kind of distance in their eyes, and ignored him.

It still puzzled Ryu, how segregated the common men were from their higher ups here in Wyndia, all though sometimes all that separated them was a name. In Dracon, any man could approach him. Then again, in Dracon, there weren't more than three hundred Brood. After the wilderness, the sheer number of lives here in Wyndia staggered him. The dirty children, running about the streets like rats. Women. Women everywhere, selling, buying, babies under their arms. More life. Incredible, how all these existences could jostle so close together, brushing, pushing and shoving past and without ever making contact.

It was strange, but sat there on the fountain, Ryu almost felt lonely.

* * *

Ryu watched as the quality of the city around him crumbled. The further he walked into the city, the shabbier the quality of the masonry, the dirtier the streets. The people, too, looked shabbier, with well-worn clothes of cheap, weather-beaten leather and fraying linen. Presumably, this was the northern sprawl. Here, the city was almost constantly thrown into the shade of the Palace, and rarely saw sunlight.

As he passed, young women sat in door frames and on steps called out to him, just as the women in the market had done, with the exception being that their wares were rather more intimate.

One woman caught him by the arm. She had small wings flecked with grey and an inviting smile. "What do you say, young man? Want to come play?"

"Not interested," Ryu said.

"Come now. A boy as finely-dressed as you, what else would be be up to in this part of town?"

"Sight-seeing."

She raised her eyebrows. "So that's it. If I were you though, darling, I'd sight-see somewhere else. Round here, stick around too long, you're just as likely to be sight-seeing your own liver." She pointed back up the street. "I'd head up that way, doll. Hate to see a boy as handsome as you in bits."

Ryu couldn't help but smile. "Thanks, but I think I'll be fine."

The woman shrugged. "It's your liver. Name's Lucille, if you ever change your mind. Find me next to Old Euron's place. First visit is half price."

"I'll keep that in mind, Lucille."

She wasn't wrong, either. He'd barely made it more than a yard down the narrow street before he was set upon. Quick as lightning, someone grabbed him by the waist, a cold knife set at his neck. The men smelled of wine and piss.

"Alright, fancy man, give us the sword," the voice grumbled in his ear. "You can drop your clothes too, and maybe we'll leave your pretty little throat intact."

Quicker even than they, so fast they didn't know what had happened, Ryu had twisted out of the grasp, and even got the knife out of the thief's hand. For a second, the man stood nonplussed. Then his red-headed partner went at Ryu, twin daggers shining. Ryu pulled his sword from its sheaf, and with the dagger and his sword, caught both his attacks, twisted the blades, sent both the man's daggers flying.

Enraged, the first man charged at him with his bare fists. Ryu ducked down and caught the man by the legs, sending him over his back and sprawling into the mud and shit.

Ryu smiled and pointed his blade at the red-head, who looked like he'd just soiled himself. "Leave. Maybe I won't cut your throats, though they're not so pretty."

The thieves took the chance Ryu was offering them. The red-head scarpered, leaving his partner to climb out of the mud and barrel after him.

Behind him, someone began to applaud. Ryu turned. It was Lucille, lifting her skirts to step over the filthy clogged drain to approach him.

"Impressive, young man. Those were the Lee brothers. They've slit more throats than they've teeth between them." Here, she paused. "Well, that's not saying much, I guess. Come walk with me."

She turned away, expecting Ryu to follow her. He said, "I'm not looking for someone to sleep with."

She looked back over her shoulder, mock cross. "How presumptive of you! I only asked you to walk with me. These streets are dangerous, after all. Do you only have sex on the brain, young man?"

Ryu stood for a moment, then his mouth turned up into a smile. He fell in with her, and she took him out of the dingy alleyways, leading him back out into the light of the plaza.

In front of him was a statue he hadn't seen before.

She was cast in pure white marble, stretching out her hands as though to embrace the whole city. Larger than life. Christina.

Strange, how she wasn't here anymore, and still cast such a long shadow.

"Here's a proper piece of sight-seeing for you, Mr Tourist," Lucille said, seeing him looking. "This here's our late princess. You know about our princess?"

Her face had been cast exactly in her image. Perhaps they'd used Nina as the model.

"I've heard of her," he said.

"Tragic," Lucille said. "You know what happened to her?" Ryu shook his head. "Plonk your butt down here then," she said, sitting on the plinth of the statue. "I'll tell you a story to tell yer relatives when you get back. Truth is, I know what happened better than most. I was doing some cleaning work in the Palace at the time, before this bitch maid accused me of pinching this silver I didn't even see."

Ryu sat with her. She said, "You know the gods we keep here in Wyndia, don't you?"

"Some. The same as in the Cedarwoods, right? Eld, Auga, Kaze? Gaia too, I think. And Yanoo." At the same time, Ryu couldn't help but wonder why they were discussing religion.

"You got most of them. But not Eld. Not anymore." She said, "You heard of Myria?"

The name rung a bell. "I think I might have, somewhere."

"Goddess of the dark, knowledge, prophesy- not much different from Yanoo really. She has a shrine up in the mountains but nobody had much heard of her until Princess Christina adopted her."

It clicked. This was Christina's god she spoke of.

"Myria ended up getting really popular, loads of folk introduced her to their pantheons and placed her talisman on their shrines. But the princess went too far. She'd become a kind of prophet to the god, started relaying messages directly from Her. And 'bout a year ago, she announced to all her followers that if they were the goddess's true believers, they'd believe only in Her, and cast out their other gods."

"Oh."

"Right. If only people hadn't listened to her, this wouldn't have happened. But… well, if you'd ever met her, you would understand. The princess had a kind of power. People listened to her. They believed in her. So her followers threw out their other gods, stopped visiting Auga's temples and Kaze's shrines, stopped praying to Eld. The monks and the priests started to get angry…"

"And then…?"

"And then, you can imagine. When she wouldn't back down, the priests of Eld murderered her."

Ryu's breath caught in his throat. "Murdered!"

"I really don't know how they thought they were going to get away with it. The heads of the temples have always had a lot of power in Wyndia: maybe they really believed their faith would award them with a pardon."

Ryu was still reeling with this information that it took a moment for him to soak all this in. "I take it they didn't, then?"

Lucille shook her head. "You won't find a single talisman to Eld left in this city. Not in public, anyway. Anyone found worshipping him has their idols taken and destroyed, and they're whipped out in the gallery. There's a couple of them strung up there now, if you want to see them. And after he'd found the truth, the King rounded up every single priest of Eld, built a huge pyre, and he burnt them all to death."

"_All_ of them?" said Ryu.

"The King knew Eld's cult was behind it. But no one would come forward, and no one would bring anyone forward. After a fortnight, he decided to burn all of them."

This was shocking enough itself, but Ryu still couldn't wrap his head around the fact Christina had been murdered. It seemed only yesterday she'd been sat by his side under the aurora and she'd told him how she could never talk openly during the day. _Only in darkness,_ she'd said. He could still feel her cold hand, pressed against his cheek. He shook the feeling off, like a shiver.

"How?" he asked. "How was she…?"

"Poison, I was told. I never saw the body myself. The Princess always had a drink of milk before bed. Her sister didn't recognise the serving girl."

_Christina, _he thought, with grief. _And Nina. She must have seen it all happen. _

"And now," he realised, "they're trying to get rid of Princess Nina. Why?"

"I have the juciest gossip for you. Nobody in the city has the foggiest, but in the Palace rumour is that she's doo-lali."

"Doo-lali?"

"You know… a bit touched in the head. Even before Princess Christina died. Not that I ever got close to her myself, but you hear things, working in the Palace. Stuff like, flying off in the middle of the night, and saying strange things. People heard her talking to herself. And I never told you this, but the whispers say that she's not even a virgin. Shock! Gasp! Right? Not that I care. She could fuck the entire royal guard and their squires as well if she wanted and it wouldn't bother little old me. But then, I'm in little position to judge, am I?" Lucille grinned crookedly at him, and Ryu considered that she didn't sound- barring talking to herself- that _doo-lali_ to him.

"Well? Is that enough _tourist information_ for you?" she said.

In reply, Ryu opened up his purse and put several coins into Lucille's hand. "Not that the jangle of zenny isn't music to my ears," she said, pocketing them, "but why exactly are you paying me?"

"For your time. You could be with a customer right now."

Lucille's eyes shined. "I like you," she said. "Tell you what. Let's make a bet. If ever we bump into one another by chance again, I'll fuck you for free." And when Ryu opened his say something, she halted him, finger pressed to his lips. "Don't refuse. Didn't your mother ever warn you about breaking girls hearts?"

* * *

Carrying a crisp bouquet of lilies he'd bought at the market, Ryu descended down into the crypt. He footfalls fell loud upon the stairs. It took him a moment to realise that was because it was so quiet. The silence was impenetrable, even stifling. He passed by the statues of a dozen, almost identical kings, all rotting into time.

At the very end of the crypt, there was a sight that astounded him.

Christina didn't look like she was dead, only sleeping. Like at any moment, she might wake up, and wonder at the debris of candles, incense and flowers piled around her.

Ryu was alone. Though not consciously he'd wondered if he might meet Nina here… or maybe hoped was the right word.

But it was just him, and a dead girl.

Ryu laid the flowers down with the rest, and knelt before the bier.

"Christina, it's me, Ryu. Do you remember me?" The long silence stretched on: had he really expected her to reply? "I remember you. I wish we'd gotten to know one another better. You understood me more in a day than my brothers have my whole life. I really hope you remember, wherever you've gone to now. I don't know your god, but I hope She's taking care of you.

"I followed your advice, you know. Though it didn't turn out the way I hoped. Maybe you were right. What was it you said? Intimacy doesn't last?" He stared down at his hands, pale in the light. "I was wrong all along. Sarah never loved me: she was only toying with me. Or maybe she never thought what she was doing would hurt me… I don't know which one is worse.

"Afterwards, I felt like a fool. I gave her everything… I made our connection into something magical. Until I realised there was no connection at all. All those same thoughts I thought we were thinking, the hopes we shared… I'd imagined them all in my head.

"And even now when I think about her, although sometimes I get angry, just as often, I miss her. I miss her irrationally. She betrayed me, and yet I still… I just don't understand. Why can't I let these feelings go free? Why can't I…?" His words trailed off in a tumble of emotion. Ryu leant down, his head bowed at the alter.

After a few minutes, he stood. "I'm sorry. My problems are nothing to yours: you're dead. Looking back on how I've behaved the last few years, I've only ever thought about myself. And it's terrible… but even now, with everything that's happened, I can still only think about myself."

He stepped over the heat of the candles to the alter, and gently, cupped his hand around Christina's face, just as she had done with him, those years ago. "All the same," he said, "I'm glad I met you."

A woman's voice cut through him like the pointed end of a javelin: "Get your filthy hands off her!"

Princess Nina stood in the tomb, hands round a precious pot of incense, leather sack under her arm, her eyes ablaze.

Immediately, he let go and stepped back from Christina's body. Nina glared at him fiercely, giving no indication of whether she recognised him or not. As she approached, Ryu stepped back against the wall to give her space, and her attention on him dissolved.

In fact, Ryu thought, it was as though she'd put him out of her mind completely. Approaching the alter, she set down on the ground the items from the sack; rice cakes, honey, a plate of sugared roses. He watched, as she cleared away the wilting flowers and old food and put them into the bag. Carefully, she placed the gifts on the plinth below where Christina laid, as conscientiously as offerings. When she had them precisely where she wanted them, she picked up a long taper. Lighting it from one of the braziers, she lit the pot of incense, and placed it on the alter below the bier. Smoke arose from the pot like cursive script.

From her hair she slipped a shell comb. With the simplicity of someone who's done this countless times, she slid onto the bier and lifted Christina by the shoulders, carefully, carefully, so that her head laid in her lap. Then, she began to comb her hair.

Ryu felt the overwhelming sense that he was intruding on something incredibly intimate. He knew he should leave, and yet at the same time, the same feeling held him fast. He watched as Nina brushed her sister's hair, forty strokes a-side, and brought the shine back to it. Ryu saw, how under her sister's hand her golden hair gleamed once again.

How often did Nina do this? Every week? Every day?

"Why are you still here?"

Nina didn't even look at him as she spoke. Her back to him, she continued to brush her sister's hair, in precise even strokes.

"I… I came to pay my respects to Princess Christina."

"You've paid them. Now go."

Ryu wondered later why it was he didn't go.

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

He took a step forward, enough to see the note of impatience playing out over her face as she said, "No. This is my job. It's no one else's concern."

"I knew your sister," he said.

"The same could be said of half the people in this city," Nina said.

But you don't understand, Ryu wanted to say. It was different. He'd known her, really known her.

Nina swung round suddenly, and gazed at him, her eyes spitting sparks.

"I know who you are," she said, piercing him to the spot like a tacked butterfly. "You're one of the men my father's invited to compete in his little carnival. It isn't enough you're here to take me from my home, but you have to lay your dirty hands on Christina as well?"

"I didn't—" Ryu started.

"You make me sick. All of you, you all swan around acting like you own the place. Just yesterday I found a man here who had the audacity to cut a lock of her hair, for a keepsake."

"Couldn't you station a guard outside?" Ryu asked.

Her eyes flashed. "Do you think I'm stupid?"

Ryu felt dismayed, and taken aback by the whole exchange. He said, If I've wounded you in some way—"

"You!" She laughed, cruelly. "I don't even know who you are. You probably think I do. You're all the same, noblemen." she slipped from the alter and approached him, stepping up tight. Was she trying to intimidate him? Goad him into anger? He was startled when she reached for him. "You think the whole the whole world revolves around you, and your pretty little cock." Like that she reached between his legs and squeezed. As though he'd been shocked with electricity, Ryu threw himself back, one of Nina's moulding ancestors at his ear.

"What do you think you're doing?" he said. His voice echoed.

She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She encroached on him again, her hand on his chest. She answered his question with a kiss.

Her lips were hot and syrupy and she reeked of sickly sweet incense. Ryu pushed her away.

"Princess," he said, "stop. You're doing something you'll regret. You're sick with grief; you're not in your right mind now."

"Why?" she said. "Just because I initiate something, instead of a man, I must be 'sick with grief?'"

"That's not what I mean. It's like I said, you don't even know me. And look around yourself, Princess. Where we are."

Nina looked back, at the burning braziers, her sister sleeping her eternal sleep. Nina reached up, slinging her arms around Ryu's neck, holding him in her embrace. She closed her eyes; she looked almost peaceful. "I want her to see," she said. "I want her to know who I am."

Lucille had to be right. There was something wrong with the girl.

Taking hold of her hands, Ryu untangled her from him, holding her back. "I told you, no."

For just a second, hot anger flashed through Nina's features. Then it faded, and left something colder behind in its wake.

"Tell me," she said, creeping closer, her wrists still restrained in Ryu's hands. "The palace guards. If something were to happen, who do you think they would believe? Me? Or you?"

Ryu said nothing. He didn't like where this was going.

"I can imagine it now. Their sweet, demure little princess comes running to them, crying because some nasty foreign stranger has forced himself on her. Her clothes are all torn, and she's sobbing." As she spoke, she moved in closer, their faces almost touching, pulling hard against Ryu's grip on her wrists. "I have to say, I don't like your chances, stranger. I don't like them at all."

In Ryu's head, he could Sarah's laughter, as she hurt him.

Was it the personal mission of every other woman in this world to destroy him?

He felt fury rise in his stomach, like bile. It took all the effort he had inside him to choke it down, to stop himself from grinding Nina's wrist bones into dust.

And then, she laughed. She threw her head back as though he was hilarious, had to stifle her giggles against the fabric of her shawl. "Your expression!" she gasped. "You can wipe that mad look off your face. I'm not really going to report you to anybody. I was just toying with you." She withdrew out of his space, and Ryu let go of her wrists, though he still regarded her warily, like he would a dangerous animal. She grinned at him, tears of laughter in her eyes. "Really?" she said. "Do you think they'd really listen to me?"

Nina approached the bier and knelt down, packing the rest of her things away into the sack. She became very small.

Just what was going on here?

"What do you mean?" Ryu said. He kept his distance, but he didn't need to. In the space of a few seconds, Nina had shrunk down. She'd become that fragile, helpless creature he'd encountered above the city, battling against her own unhappiness.

She gazed up at him, eyes pools of still water, reflecting a faraway light. "If I haven't even the power to get a single guard stationed for my sister's tomb, do you think anyone would listen to me if I made a complaint against you?"

"But you're a princess of Wyndia," Ryu said.

"Was. Soon, I'll be someone else's bride. I might as well have packed my bags."

"That's insane," Ryu said, shaking his head.

"I'm not lying. Ask anyone you want. You'll discover the truth. Ask why another woman occupies my mother's- the Queen's- chambers. Or who the boy is who sits by my father's side. Even that bitch Kleopatra, my bastard sister, sleeps in my bed. My bed, and my sister's bed." Her hands tightened over the sack, till her knuckles turned white. "You think I'm a liar? Everyone in this palace is a liar. It's rotten to the core."

Thinking back, Ryu realised that she might be telling the truth. There had a been a young boy by King Philip's side each time he saw him, though Philip had no sons. And Queen Rosetta? He might have seen her, once.

Ryu knelt down beside Nina. He wondered whether to offer her a comforting hand, but wonderd too if it would be presumptive. Also, he was still wary. He said, "I'm sorry."

"Why? You've done nothing." Her face was turned away, towards the floor. "I'm used to it. I've been vanishing from this city from the day I was born. First Eurydyke moved in, then her spawn. Then my sister spoke to that goddamned oracle… that was the start of it. She was mine, and I was hers, but I could never match her. Then she started preaching. Nothing could come between her and the god. She went too far. I told her… I tried to warn her…" her voice trailed off in a choked noise. Ryu thought she was crying, but when she gazed up at her sister's body, Ryu saw her face: cold as stone, lifeless.

They've wrung her dry, Ryu thought. Squeezed next to every last drop of life out of her. That's why she like this.

He wondered why she was telling him, a stranger, all of this. But perhaps that was why. He was a stranger; he meant nothing to her.

The nearby brazier guttered. Almost of out of oil, it spluttered and hissed, and went out.

In the dark, Ryu put his hand on Nina's.

"She loved you," he said. Nina didn't react. "She came to Dracon once, my hometown. She told me… how happy she was, just talking to you. She said it made her feel—" What was the word she'd used? "—she said it made her feel eternal."

Nina moved. She looked up at him, into his eyes, searching. "She said that to you?"

"Yes."

Nina asked, "Who are you?"

"My name's Ryu. I'm from Dracon. My mother is—"

"No." Her other hand moved, tightened over his. Her eyes locked him in place. Lit by torchlight,- something seemed to stir within them. "I mean, who are you?"

_To be continued._

* * *

**A/N- Thanks for the reviews guys! Makes me happy to know you're enjoying the story so far. **

**Next chapter will be from Nina's perspective. Yay! **


	8. Watching you watching me

**A/N- **Hope y'all like backstory. :3

This story is a kind of experiment. I wanted to see if I could write a story where the main events in the characters lives have already happened- so Ryu's had his big love story and Nina's lost the person her life has revolved around since she was born. I wanted to deal with what happens afterwards, since its not something we often see. That's why the story is called Afterimage. An afterimage is an optical illusion that refers to an image continuing to appear in one's vision after the exposure to the original image has ceased.

So how long does it take before an afterimage fades? Let's find out. :)

(And it will get less depressing later, I promise).

**Part 8: Watching you watching me**

**By **_Nina Windia_

Nina remembered that when she was very small, she'd found a book in the library with folklore from different countries. And there'd been one myth in the book about twins. Twins, the story said, were people who split in the womb to become two halves. That was why only when they were together they became one complete person.

She'd ran straight to her sister with the book to show her. Yes, Christina said, that had to be it.

When Nina was fifteen, she found the book again, entombed in a shroud of cobwebs behind the heavy wardrobe, and read her sister the story.

"Oh, Nina. That's just a myth people used to believe in, you know," Christina said. "You never really thought it was true, did you?"

For as long as Nina could remember, she'd been looking into a mirror, trying to match her reflection. And for as long as she could remember, the lines never completely joined up.

* * *

She laid in the oaken bed she and Christina had shared for some twenty years.

It wasn't possible, but she could still smell the scent of her sister's hair on the pillow: a clean, bright scent, like dandelions.

She remembered.

* * *

A cold night, and they cuddled closer together under the blankets for warmth. Nina loved these cold winter nights; they reminded her of when they were children, and it did not have to be cold for them to huddle like penguins. But things had changed, and they were no longer children. Their fifteenth nameday had come last week: they were women, now. The curves she felt beneath Christina's nightgown, too, said that much.

Christina was shivering. "It-it's so cold," she said.

"I could wake up Canace and ask for the bed pan?" Nina said, making to slip away onto the cold stone floor.

"No, stay," said Christina, clutching her tighter. "If you get out, it'll be freezing by the time you get back." The two were wrapped as tightly around the other as a pair of voles. Nina pressed her smiling cheek against Christina's cold one. These were the moments she loved; when she had her sister all selfishly to herself.

The nothingness, that veil of darkness that had stalked her for years, could not hope to pop this bubble of happiness.

They shifted, Christina's back curved to her, so that they fitted together like two spoons.

"It's no good. I'm too cold to sleep," Christina said.

"Mnn… me too," said Nina, her mouth in Christina's hair. In truth, she was too happy to sleep. In the morning, she was sure, everything would be back to normal. Best to enjoy the moment for as long as it lasted.

Out of no where, Christina asked, "Nina, what do you think it's like to be in love?"

"You want to know what it's like to be in love?" Nina was so surprised she had to repeat the question. This wasn't Christina's usual brand.

"That's what I asked, silly." Although she couldn't see her face, she thought Christina sounded a bit embarrassed.

"Well…" Nina thought about it. "When they're around, your stomach feels really warm, and almost queasy."

"That doesn't sound so great."

"I'm not finished! You blush for no reason, and when you see them… you can't stop smiling. Even if you don't want to. You just smile."

Christina was silent, presumably thinking it over, and then she lifted herself up on her elbow, smiling broadly at Nina.

"So this is what happens when you see Pablo?"

"Christina!" she gasped, turning bright red.

"Yes, it must definitely be love. You're red as a tomato!"

She turned even redder. It wasn't like Christina to tease these days; she must have been thinking of the past, too.

"Why are you asking me this?" she said, trying to redirect away from herself. "Are _you _in love?"

Christina's smile fell away from her face like rain.

"No," she said. "No. That why I'm asking."

Nina scanned her sister's face, trying to figure out what she was fretting about.

"You will one day," she said. "When you meet someone handsome enough."

"But that's the thing," Christina said, biting her lip, and Christina never bit her lip. "What if I never do?"

"You will. Everybody does."

"But what if I'm not able to?"

Nina was silent now.

"I mean, we're already old enough to be married. And Anna-Maria, Yvonne, Suzette, Claudia, you, you're all in love!"

"I think you're worrying about nothing. We're not that old, you know."

It almost pleased Nina, though, that Christina was worrying. Her sister, who never worried, unless it was about her, almost always at peace. What a relief, that she was human after all.

"But you don't understand— I've tried," Christina said, shaking her head. "I've tried, and it hasn't worked."

"I don't think you can fall in love by trying. It's something that just happens."

"Then I'm just supposed to wait?" Her voice was impatient, and surprisingly, upset. Nina looked at her, and watched as she visibly calmed herself. "Maybe I'm in love and don't know it. What are the symptoms again?"

Nina smiled. Symptoms, like it was a cold or something.

"Blushing?" she said, trying not to tease.

"No," Christina said, frowning.

"Smiling when they enter the room?"

"I don't think so."

"Feeling queasy."

"Ah! I have been feeling queasy lately."

"Are you sure it wasn't because of those bad oysters?"

"Oh… yes, of course, you're right."

She sounded so disappointed that Nina hated to tell her this: "I think if you're in love, you'd know it."

Christina sighed.

"Look, don't worry about it, okay? You're bound to meet someone great sooner or later. Hey, didn't you see Cylon's son staring at you last supper? He's pretty good looking, right?"

Christina frowned. "Is he?"

"Sure! He's pretty much got his own fanclub. Don't you think so?" Even as she spoke, however, Nina hoped not. Thinking about Christina and him together, somehow something about it set her on edge.

Thankfully Christina said: "I'm not sure I get it." She sounded as confused as Nina was. But then she asked; "Why do you love Pablo? Because he's handsome?"

"It's because he's…" Nina paused. Now she thought about it, she wasn't sure. He was fun to be with, and she felt a lot less lonely with him, but… "Yes, it's because he's handsome," she said.

Christina had been holding herself up propped up on an elbow. Now, she slumped down onto her back. "I just don't get it." She let her eyes close. "I'm not normal, am I?"

Shock ran through Nina like electricity.

"You shouldn't say that." In her opinion— and mainly everyone else's— it was her that wasn't normal.

"But I'm not, am I? I don't understand anything. Why people fall in love. How they fall in love. Or why they— you know…" Nina stared in bewilderment. Christina gulped. "Why they make love," she finished.

"Well…" Nina said hesitantly, "maybe you're just not interested in men."

"What do you mean?"

"Anna was telling me… about girls who aren't interested in men, but other girls."

"Girls can love girls?"

"I guess so," said Nina. She'd thought Anna was kidding at first, too.

Christina shook her head. "I don't think I'm interested in anyone. Girls or men. I mean, I'd know, would I, if I liked girls?"

"Yeah, I suppose."

"Then that settles it," she announced. "I'm not normal."

"Just because you're not in love doesn't mean—"

"I don't just mean about that. About everything."

"Everything?"

She cast her eyes down. "Sometimes I just feel as though I'm… out of place. Like I don't belong."

It took the air from her lungs. For a moment, Nina couldn't breathe.

"I feel that too," she said.

"You do?"

"Yeah. A lot."

Christina put her hand over Nina's hand and squeezed: an echo of the past.

"Well, we should have at least something in common," she said, giggling. "We are twins."

"Yeah, _something_," Nina said. Christina's giggles were catching, and they shook together, Nina pressing her face into Christina's hair. They subsided into silence. Christina let out a yawn and closed her eyes, drifting into sleep.

Nina stared into the darkness, a smile on her lips.

Some indefinable moment of time later, her sister's voice rose sleepily, like a ghost: "Are-chee goin' to sleep?" she said.

"Not yet," said Nina, not startled in the slightest. "I wouldn't want to waste this."

Christina blinked, uncomprehending, and burrowed her face into Nina's neck, under in seconds.

For a while after that, Nina laid and watched her sister's sleeping face.

* * *

Nina awoke suddenly, to the sound of shrieking.

"Intruder! IN-TRUDER! There's someone in my—"

She reached out groggily to shake her sister by the shoulder, and—

Her hand slipped through air. She sat up, blinking, and framed in the doorway saw Kleopatra, whose screams stopped halfway.

"Ni-Nina," she said. "I thought— I thought you were a murderer. What are you doing here?"

What was she doing here?

"This is my—"

She stopped.

"Did— did you forget and come in here by accident?" Kleopatra supplied for her.

Nina nodded. Why not?

Kleopatra wore a look of relief. She fiddled with a red curl; a moment passed, and Nina realised she was waiting for her to leave.

And that was it. No how are you?, No are you well? Silence.

It was like sitting on the beach, watching the tide go out around you. All Nina had to do was be silent, comply and watch her life vanish from around her. Absolutely effortlessly.

**This isn't your home anymore, after all, **a snide voice whispered, close to her ear.

Not now, she thought.

"Kleo! Whatever is the matter—" Eurydyke bustled round the corner, gripping her daughter's arm. "Kleo—"

She spotted Nina stood by the bed and adopted the same blank look as her daughter. "Princess Nina," she said simply.

"Nina— the Princess, she forgot it wasn't, um, her bedroom anymore," Kleopatra explained.

Eurydyke nodded. "Understandable."

**What are you standing there for for? They're waiting for you to leave. You're not wanted here.**

Nina shook her head, as though she could shake the thoughts away.

**Look at that girl. Go on, look at her. **Nina dragged her head up to look at Kleopatra. **See, they've already got your replacement. And she even looks a bit like you! **

It was true. Although there was plenty of her mother in her, she had her father's eyes. Her eyes. Which shifted, uncomfortably, under Nina's stare.

"Princess, is there something the matter?" Eurydyke's words were pointed.

**Quite a bit, I'd say.**

"N-no," said Nina, yet she still couldn't seem to move her feet.

"Perhaps…" Eurydyke spoke softly, softly, like the snake she was. "perhaps I should call for your handmaid, to take you back to your chambers. I think you need to rest, Princess. You don't seem well…"

Her handmaid. Zilpah.

"I don't have a handmaid anymore. Thanks to you," she snapped.

The girl, and her belongings had vanished, when she returned to her room one night. The day after, she'd seen her trailing after Eurydyke, eyes downcast.

"I'm sorry," she'd whispered. "I'm not allowed to talk to you anymore."

Anger rose up in her throat like bile. This bitch, and this bitch's daughter wouldn't rest until they'd taken everything from her. Her family: her home: her dignity.

Get out! She wanted to scream. Get out of my room! Get out of my life!

**And how would that help anything? **

"Shut up!" said Nina. "I don't care!"

"W-what?" said Kleopatra.

"I'm not talking to you," Nina snarled.

**It won't bring your sister back. You saw to that, after all. **

And all anger drained from her, water down a plug hole. All feeling, too. She stood, limply.

That's not true, and you know it, she thought.

**Tell yourself that, if it makes you feel any better.**

Eurydyke and Kleopatra were looking at her as though she was mad.

Quite possibly, they were right.

Eurydyke murmured something to her daughter, who dashed off. She moved towards Nina, putting a slimy, mock comforting hand on her. "I understand this tournament must be very stressful for you…" she said soothingly. "After some rest, you'll feel better, Princess."

Nina nodded. Eurydyke guided her to the door, where Kleopatra met her with a member of the kingsguard.

"Come with me, please, Princess," he said. "I'll escort you back to your chambers." A hand on her back, quite firm, guided her away. Before she left, she saw the mother and daughter exchange a look. Eurydyke rolled her eyes.

Nina wanted to cry, but couldn't.

* * *

A small, gloomy guest room, narrow bed, wardrobe bulging out of the dark.

"You want me to light a lamp for you, Princess Nina?" she heard the guard say.

"No."

The door clicked closed behind her.

There was no window. It could be raining outside, and Nina wouldn't even know it. Perhaps it was raining.

She fell, backwards, onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

**Why are you alive? **A voice said. **What does your existence accomplish? **

She traced the triangles on the ceiling tiles.

**Your sister is gone. Tell me. Why are you still here?**

"Don't talk to me about my sister," said Nina.

**But after all, she—**

"SHUT-UP!" Nina roared.

The voice was silent. She waited, and it didn't reply. She sunk back, hard, against the pillows.

Lately, it was getting worse.

As a child, she'd called it, the 'nothingness.' Because that, in essence, was what it was: it fed on on her unhappiness, encouraged her worst thoughts, tried to hollow her out like a pomegranate.

It started, that day at the Oracle. When she thought about it, that was when all the terrible things started happening. Both she and Christina had left, changed.

She thought back to that day, and the days after: splinters of memory she couldn't pull out.

* * *

The warm hand felt like a halo, drifting over her head.

Nina's eyes slipped open.

"Her temperature feels regular, your Highness," said a man's voice.

Floating above her were the faces of her mother and one of the Palace healers.

"I-it's… cold," Nina chattered.

"You hear her?" said Rosetta.

The healer shook his head. "If there's nothing wrong, I can't fix it. This is the third time I've examined her; I can't find anything abnormal."

Then, her mother demanded, why was her daughter like this?

The healer shrugged sleekly. "She's just delicate," he said.

"She wasn't delicate before," Rosetta said. "And even if that were the case, why the nightmares? The poor girl wakes every night yelling."

"She has a mild case of hysteria. I wouldn't worry about it; this kind of thing is common to women. Leaving Wyndia for the first time must have been a shock to her."

"Christina… where is Christina?" Nina said.

Rosetta put a comforting hand on Nina's head. "She's at the temple, darling."

"Why? I want her!"

At this outburst, puzzled, Rosetta removed her hand.

"Why? She said she wanted to pray."

Pray? Her sister?

* * *

They sat at the back of the temple, giggling; the old double act.

"Girls!" Olympias stood over them, her voice hushed and angry. "This is a place of prayer."

"But it's bo-oring," Christina said.

"Bo—oring," said Nina.

"You wait until I tell your father—"

Her threats didn't faze them. They grinned up at her; their two smiling mischievous faces.

* * *

Christina closed their bedroom door behind her. Nina jumped off the bed, staring at her as if she'd gone mad.

"Christina… what are you wearing?"

Her sister touched the new article on her head. It was a headscarf, the same worn by the sibylle.

"This is a traditional kazumae, as worn by the sisterhood since—"

"I know what it is," Nina interrupted her. "What I want to know is why you're wearing it."

Christina didn't seem fazed in the slightest by her questions. "Some of the sisterhood visited the temple today. The matronette gave me it as a gift."

"Okay, but you're not seriously going to wear it?"

"Why not?"

"But…" Nina couldn't seem to find the words. Her fingernails dug into folds of her dress. Christina looked up at her. "But if you wear that, people will start to be able to tell us apart."

* * *

"So?" Christina had said.

* * *

People started to be able to tell them apart. And they went to Christina.

Apart from the nothingness, of course.

* * *

**Tell me the truth. You're jealous of her, aren't you?**

Jealous? Of course not! That's ridiculous.

**I wouldn't blame you if you were. It's unfair, the way they paw at her.**

I wish only for her happiness.

**Even though your mother and father love her better than you?**

W-what? That's not true.

**You mean you didn't see it? The way they completely forgot about you at dinner, as soon as she entered the room? **

I…

**And why do you think it is, that God answers her prayers, and not yours?**

I…I don't know.

**Maybe God's forgotten you.**

…Maybe so. But-

**Maybe he's forsaken you.**

But I—

**God loves your sister, but hates you. You are God's child, not beloved by god. How does that make you feel? **

Stop it! Leave me alone.

**Why did God curse you, but bless your sister?**

I don't know. Don't ask me! She's… maybe she's a better person than me.

**You were both born with the same face. You were both good children. But she gets all the love and glory. Doesn't that make you angry? She must despise you; don't you despise her? **

You're wrong! My sister doesn't despise me.

**Doesn't she? Haven't you seen that look on her face when you say particularly something stupid? She hates you! You should hate her.**

It's not true!

**Hate her. Hate her with every ounce she hates you. And destroy her. **

I know what you are! You're the nothingness, aren't you? I won't listen. I love my sister, she loves me. What you're saying is nothing more than slanderous lies.

**Destroy her. Destroy her.**

No!Get out of my head!

* * *

She couldn't touch her. Not when she was like this. Trailing her through the palace, to the temple, even sitting on her couch with her at dinner were the girls Nina called her _disciples_. Some wore the sibyllae headscarf, just like Christina. They hung on her every word. The words they exchanged might as well have been a different language.

When she was with them, Nina didn't see her sister. It was as though her aura gave off a different kind of light. She'd become a charismatic, beautiful stranger. Nina couldn't stand to look at her, and yet, she couldn't seem to look away.

* * *

**She must despise you, **the voice had said. What if it were right?

* * *

The music room at sunset, light thrown like sails across the floor. Her chiton pulled down to her waist, flimsy white gauze like sea foam. Footsteps.

"Nina." The sound of her name, a stone cast down a deep well.

The boy fumbled, blushed, panicked and ran.

Nina stood, absolutely still.

"Sister," she said.

Opposite ends of the airy room. Christina approached her, slowly, as though moving towards a skittish animal. Said nothing, as she fixed Nina's chiton, covering her modesty, all the time her eyes down.

"Tell me," Nina said. "What is is you're thinking, right now."

Christina straightened her sash, giving it perhaps an unnecessarily tight tug. "You know what I'm thinking."

"I must make you furious," she said.

Christina concentrated on straightening her collar. "Not the word I'd use. Disappointed, maybe."

Nina captured her sister's hands under hers, squeezed them tight, held them to her chest. Christina's eyes bobbed up to hers, jellyfish in the current.

"You must hate me for what I've become," she said.

Her sister's brow was pinched, right between the eyebrows. "What are you saying? How could I—"

Nina cupped her sister's cheek in her hand.

"Nina…?"

She stepped forward, and kissed her the side of the mouth. Tender, lingering. Christina let her do it, and moved back. Shook her head, beads on her headscarf waving like sea kelp.

"Nina," she said, that awful distance in her eyes, "I don't understand you at all."

* * *

_don't _

_understand _

_you _

_at _

_all_

…

* * *

The feeling of floating. The memories washed over Nina like water. They threatened to pull her under; at the same time, she wanted to be lost to the waves.

Whatever had happened before, it was over now. Her sister was gone.

Her hands crumpled round fistfuls of bedsheets. She squeezed her eyes closed.

_Oh, Christina._

She hadn't known it before, but even then she'd been happy. None of those boys meant anything to her. She hadn't loved them, not even Dante. After all, what did butterflies and blushing have to do with love?

For as long as she could remember, there had only been one person she could love.

Only her, her, her.

Nina opened her eyes against the darkness. She swore she could hear the rain.

A snail at the bottom of the water, she waited.

_To be continued. _


End file.
